The Summer's Secret
by Japhu
Summary: For one week in summer Harry disappears without trace. When he comes back he claims to have no memory. But something happened and it changed him. It remains to be seen if for the better or the worse. [AU post OotP, will be HPSS]
1. Prologue : Guilty Reminiscence

**Title:** Harry Potter and the Summer's Secret

_**Author:** Japhu _

_**Beta Reader:** Nagi_

_**Pairing:** HPSS_

**Rating:** R 

_**Disclaimer:** I own nothing of Harry Potter and his world and don't make any money with it._

_**Summary:** For one week in summer Harry disappears without trace. When he comes back he claims to have no memory. But something happened and it changed him. It remains to be seen if for the better or the worse. (will be HPSS)_

_**Category:** action/adventure/angst_

_**Feedback:** highly appreciated_

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**Prologue - Guilty Reminiscence**

With a look at the closed door, Harry scoffed. He did not need to know what his uncle would do when he insisted in going to Hogwarts. Vernon Dursley was not a nice man, and he certainly did not want to give his nephew what he most desired.

It was a balm for Harry's soul to know that Ron and Hermione, at least, would notice his absence when Harry did not emerge at the feast. They would talk to one of the professors, who, in turn, would hopefully inform the headmaster and get him out of here.

Harry sighed deeply and dropped himself down on his squeaking bed. He simply had to wait till somebody came to take him to school. Until then, he had to abide his only living family. Certainly Dumbledore would not leave him here, would he?

Another sigh escaped his throat, and he began to count prime numbers to distract himself from the tight knot that was rapidly forming in his stomach.

Shaking his head, Harry smiled when his owl sat down on his shoulder, hooting reassuringly and nibbling his ear lobe. He could always trust her to pull him out of dark thoughts.

"I know, Hedwig," he whispered and stroked her feathers. Harry loved his owl. "It doesn't change anything to brood, and you're right, it's still a long way until September." Sometimes, he thought, the bird was the only one who truly understood him.

Sometimes Harry thought it woeful to have to count a bird among his best friends, but most of the time he was just glad to have her. The beautiful snowy owl hooted affectionately and flew off to the small water dish in her cage.

Actually, Harry was not allowed to let her out at any time, but he thought it was enough that one of them was locked up day in and day out.

Harry turned and went to the window. Outside it was a really nice day. The sun was shining brightly and the sky was practically glowing in an unnatural, intense blue. The few children playing on the street seemed happy. Harry could hear them laughing, and it made his heart twist with sadness to know that other people lived their lives without knowing how lucky they were.

Often in his early childhood Harry had wished to be one of them, although he had always felt too far away, too old to really belong to them. And now?

He had seen far too much. Harry did not even want to be there on the street. None of them could even come close to understanding him.

Without even realizing, his eyes lost their focus and memories appeared out of the fog; his head was wrapped up in this moment.

Minutes later Harry shook his head to clear his mind, but now tears were running down his cheeks and his body trembled slightly, but not from cold. Suppressing a heart-aching sob, Harry wiped off the treacherous moisture.

The whole week since the beginning of vacation, Harry had not left his room but for a short walk to the bathroom twice a day. He felt empty and numb, as if somebody had pushed him over the edge - and now he kept falling deeper into a bottomless abyss of doom.

It was not the frequent death predictions he got from his divinations professor for four years or the fact that he was The-Bloody-Boy-Who-Lived, which left him in a state of uneasiness and perturbation.

It was not the yelling and humiliation he got from his Muggle relatives or the claustrophobic condition of the cupboard he used to live in whenever his so-called uncle wanted to get rid of him and his freakishness; it was not the events of the Triwizard Tournament, that had culminated in his duel against the Dark Lord himself and poor Cedric's death.

Harry could not have known that the damned cup would take him and Cedric right to the ugly faced bastard. He had just wanted the tournament to be fair. It was absolutely not his fault.

Another matter was the death of his godfather. That was – at least partly – Harry's fault, though, even that was not reason enough for his restlessness and his inability to find a moment of peace.

It was neither his nightmares nor his panting awakenings in the middle of the night, not always sure if he simply had had a dream or was being visited by Voldemort.

The only cause he could come up with was plain and simple frustration, with a tiny little bit of boredom and a huge amount of anger.

With a deep breath, Harry ran a hand over his messy dark strands and dropped down on the only excuse for a chair in his room. He needed something new.

He wanted to get rid of Tom Riddle and his consorts for good.

He did not want to spend his whole life hunting or being hunted and being scared over whether the wizard stood around the corner, waiting for him and his friends.

Harry was bored of his fear of a madman.

He was bored out of his mind, out of his whole being.

Harry was by no means suicidal; at least he did not believe he was.

He just needed a change.

Urgently.

Harry would have to think of something to end it for once and for all.


	2. Chapter 1 : Birthday Incidents

**Title:** Harry Potter and the Summer's Secret

_**Author:** Japhu _

_**Beta Reader:** Nagi_

_**Pairing:** HPSS_

_**Rating:** R_

_**Disclaimer:** I own nothing of Harry Potter and his world and don't make any money with it._

_**Summary:** For one week in summer Harry disappears without trace. When he comes back he claims to have no memory. But something happened and it changed him. It remains to be seen if for the better or the worse. (will be HPSS)_

_**Category:** action/adventure/angst_

_**Feedback:** highly appreciated_

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**Chapter 1 - Birthday Incidents**

"Tell me, Potter, what did you do during the last days?" Moody's false eye rolled into the back of his head, but when Harry glanced around him, he saw nothing but the wall. Maybe the Dursleys were sitting on the other side, plotting his demise.

"What?" Harry looked from one to the other, not knowing why they were in his bedroom wearing expressions like they believed him dead.

"Just tell us, Harry." Lupin smiled anxiously, trying to appear reassuring and failing miserably.

"I did my homework," Harry started hesitantly, "a few chores for the Dursleys." His eyes strayed from one to the other, definitely not happy with their strange behaviour.

"What chores?" Moody rasped, searching for something Harry did not know and the boy flinched back unconsciously at the harsh words. Confused about the adults' demeanour, Harry finally shrugged his shoulders and frowned.

"Washing the dishes, weeding the garden, painting the shed, things like that. Why?" When the wizards looked at each other imploringly, Harry sat up straight.

"Could someone please tell me what's going on?" His brows furrowed and his fists clenched hidden in his trouser pockets. His temper was plainly showing and he did not seem any less angry than the last time any of the men had seen the boy.

Again an exchange of glances before Lupin smiled helplessly. "Happy birthday, Harry."

"My birthday?" For a second Harry looked dazed and he let himself being diverted for a moment. With all that was happening he had forgotten the date for real. A fast peek at his clock told him that he had been sixteen for nearly four hours.

"You didn't forget your birthday, Harry?" Lupin tapped on his shoulder, a good-natured smile on his face. "We just came to congratulate you and to see how you were doing, Harry." The latter was said with a suspicious glimpse directed at the old Auror, who eyed the boy with vigilance.

"Wait a moment." Harry's eyes widened in realization. "You came to my birthday? Now? It's not even four in the morning!" He would have stood if his room had given him enough space for that with two other occupants practically on top of him.

"And you couldn't have waited until a decent time of the day?"

"That wouldn't have been much of a surprise, Potter," Moody said grumpily, his false eye following a green flash of something through the corridor.

"Oh, believe me," Harry threw in with seldom displayed sarcasm, "it certainly would've been one, nevertheless." He glowered darkly and crossed his arms over his chest, determined to push his point across if nothing else.

"It would've been more convincing, too." A fervent glint in his eyes should tell them that their story did not hold much credibility with him. And concerning Harry and his rapidly dropping mood, the talk or interrogation or whatever they thought they were doing, was definitely over, though; he himself would like to have some answers. Harry gave them the benefit of the doubt, since they should know better now, and asked bluntly.

"What, for Merlin's sake, is really going on?"

Silence pressed down on them and just when Lupin opened his mouth after a long estimating glance at Harry, Tonks' voice happily cried from the outside, interrupting the oppressing tension with untruthful sincerity and Harry saw her green hair flash in the darkness, before he turned back to Lupin, who looked oddly relieved at being rescued from another lie.

Tonks' "We just didn't want to wake the Muggles" didn't particularly contribute to Harry's mood at all, but obviously it was all the explanation he was going to get for now, so Harry nodded with a grim look and his "Yeah, as if" was murmured quietly under his breath.

Oddly disappointed, Harry leaned back.

More secrets.

"For none of my birthdays I got a surprise visit from anyone of you." Harry watched them attentively through narrowed eyes. "What - now - is different from then?" He eyed them with open, innocent curiosity.

"It's really just a check for security, Harry." Lupin tried a different approach. "Nothing to worry about."

Harry acknowledged Lupin's treacherousness with a short shake of his head. The last of his father's friends had just left him. At least the man had enough decency to look decidedly uncomfortable, although that didn't change anything. Harry was still being lied to.

"That's it?" Harry inquired calmly, making sure Lupin was aware of his last chance. He nodded when no forthcoming explanation was given and tried to suppress the astonishingly deep hurt he felt burning in his chest.

When they did not trust him, Harry would gladly return the favor. They would soon realize that Harry could hold his own. What could happen would happen; and what must be done, Harry would do.

While looking them up and down, Harry contemplated his possibilities. He had a few paths outlined, how he could manage what needed to be done.

The one path, which seemed to open up in front of him on its own, was his least favourite: the one he had thought of as his emergency plan, a backup if everything else failed. It was, nevertheless, manageable with a lot of planning and caution on his side.

Harry sighed deeply and ignored the different sets of eyes that suddenly turned towards him, quizzically asking silently after his problems.

"All right," Harry began, "you don't want to tell me - I won't ask -" though it would have been nice if they had learned something from the last year's experience- "thus no need to lie." He held up his hand to forestall their possible objections.

"But now that you are sure I'm quite healthy, I'd like to get a bit more sleep, if you please, before I need to get up again in a few hours." Harry raised his brow in silent demand and lay back on his bed. He closed his eyes, blissfully relishing in the dumbfounded expressions both men displayed, silently slipping under the thin blanket.

Harry stretched languidly in an obvious attempt to ignore his guests, while listening avidly to every rustle of cloth and every creaking board, aware of the adults' incredulous stares at being dismissed that easily. And as predicted, Moody growled darkly in his throat.

"Now, Potter, show some - !" Moody rasped, angry, until Lupin gestured for the old Auror to let it go. The boy, he thought, seemed unusually indifferent toward them and their reason for coming here. He showed no signs of apprehension or guilt, like at the end of the school year. He did not even ask, though; he obviously did not believe them. The change was alarming.

Harry did not mind. He chose to express his opinion with a simple yawn. Without opening his eyes he curled up comfortably on his lumpy mattress.

_I'm just a boy,_ Harry thought almost lazily, _just an ordinary, sulking teenage boy, who is angry at his elders. Just a boy enjoying an idle moment of dreaming, before starting an equally ordinary day without dark lords or highly annoying order members._

"I will not allow -!" Moody barked, only to be interrupted by Tonks.

"Let him be, Alastor," she said sweetly, calling the Auror off of Harry's case. Not that he could have done something. Harry caressed this thought and his lips twitched. Moody could not possibly feel insulted?

He was amazed at himself, how much he enjoyed riling them up at this moment, although with some certainty Harry could foretell it would not last long, as he surely would have a talk with the headmaster about all of this at one point in the future.

Yet, Harry did not know what he was to do then. Not sure what the headmaster would come up with in the mad head of his, Harry had thought of two possible outcomes should he tell the old man what all of them so desperately wanted to know.

Either Dumbledore would do nothing but to watch, for there was nothing he could honestly do and keep a clean conscience at the same time; or he would ship Harry off to Azkaban for safekeeping at the first offered opportunity.

After his own lifelong experience with him, Harry would credit the headmaster with everything except cold-blooded murder, but Harry did not put the idea itself past him, as it was likely that Dumbledore would send his own assassin - probably his much-loved Potions Master - for a task like that to keep his gnarled old hands clean to pop lemon drops into his mouth.

His friends were a problem, too. Whether to tell Hermione and Ron or only one of them he would have to think further about. They were his friends, of course, but to tell them was a risk Harry had to be sure he could control the consequences of.

Until now they more or less had done everything together. This time, things were different. Everything had already happened. Only the last step still had to be taken care of, the step in which neither of them could play a part.

If Harry only told Hermione, she surely would keep it secret from Ron when Harry promised to tell him in his own time, but after cocooning herself up in the library for a week Hermione certainly would urge him to confide in Dumbledore. This time Harry was not sure he could persuade her otherwise when he said he did not want the man privy to his knowledge. It was highly possible that she would go to the crazy coot without his consent when she saw one of her best friends' lives at stake and thought it for the best.

And Ron? Well, Harry doubted the boy would get jealous. Ron would have to be raving mad to want what Harry had now, so he would keep his temper in check and help him without an argument. But could he trust him enough to not mention it to anyone, even Hermione, who was too perceptive for her own good, or Dumbledore, if asked to his office?

The old twinkler had a way with people who were not called Harry Potter. Everyone did what he bade them and took everything he said for infallible truth. Not even the adults looked through his schemes; most of them did not even question him. All of them together thought they knew better, just because they had a few more candles on their birthday cakes.

Harry could have told them what their beliefs were worth to him. Yet, he admitted, had they at least made the effort to tell him the truth this time, he would have probably told them at least some of what had happened to him, possibly even everything.

Of course, they did not know that Harry knew very well what he had done during summer and what was being done to him. Perhaps it was a low thing to merely test them on their promises, but Harry needed to know if they were sincere about their intentions.

It was not as if the last year did not have enough secrets to last a lifetime. What did they think he would do when they did not even acknowledge the fact of his abduction? They could not even be bothered to think of a convincing lie.

_Security check! Please!_ Harry scoffed. He was not five anymore. _I won't just sit and wait until they deem me desperate enough to give me a few scraps to keep me quiet!_ Harry bit his lip and turned his face to the wall.

_I won't!_ He thought with determination. _And I can't. I don't have left time for that. _What had happened was too much of a risk to let it go unsolved. It was too much a risk to let it become common knowledge for more than one reason.

In the end it did not matter to whom he told his secret. Whoever knew about it would try to meddle with Harry's decisions and plans. The stakes could not be calculated.

Harry was on his own, although he desperately searched for someone who might understand his motives and help him without keeping him from fulfilling his so-called destiny at the same time.

Now that Harry knew he could not rely on them to inform him of such miniscule details as his own supposed…kidnapping, he could not rely on them for anything else, and thus was truly on his own, and it hurt more than he thought it would ... or should.

They had to know that, despite their secrecy, Harry would learn everything in school at the latest. So why the effort to hide the truth?

Harry thought that if he really had lost his memory, as he had made them believe, he would get more than angry with them for keeping something of that importance - more than ever when he had to find out through a third or fourth party.

Harry did not give his trust away freely, not anymore. As they did not seem able to earn it rightly from him, they surely would not get it for nothing. For all Harry cared, they could wonder themselves dizzy about what he was up to, and he had planned to keep a low profile as long as somehow possible to not endanger his own preparations.

With all his might, Harry forced his tangled emotions back into the darkest corner of his mind were they belonged. Now was not the time to become depressed and dwell on the past. His near future did not look all that bad for now when he really took his time and thought about it.

He had a full year to live without any distractions from a dark lord, or a wizard who thought himself to be one and tried to prove it by attempting murder on The-Boy-Who-Lived. For the first time during his whole life Harry could look forward to enjoying himself and what little bit of childhood Voldemort and the Dursleys had left.

Harry knew he could do this; he had to do it, for there would never be another chance for him. Only now he had time to live, and live to the fullest. Nothing else mattered. His future did not call his interest anymore; it never really had.

All too soon the time would come to count his failures, forgotten promises and missed opportunities. Then he would weigh out on what he could have done better or worse.

Whenever Harry thought about the direction his path was leading to, he felt a twisting knot of dread in his guts and the need to vomit became almost unbearable.

With a trembling breath, Harry pulled the blanket over his head. _No need to get upset,_ he told himself. _Calm down, Harry. Just calm down._ It would not help to further his plan when they saw him panicking.

Harry could still feel them in his room. The magic surrounding them extended with a low buzz and if Harry concentrated he would know instantly their strengths and weaknesses. At the moment he was satisfied with a simple eavesdropping from his side.

He could feel them huddled together, whispering in low voices, too low for him to hear anything of worth. Harry could imagine how they tried to explain away his lack of memory.

First they would run to inform Dumbledore.

"Harry." Lupin tore him away from his train of thoughts. "We understand that you're not happy, and if you don't want to talk to us, we'll go." He waited a breath's moment for Harry to begin confessing his soul's secrets.

Harry just smirked under his blanket. When they thought they could persuade him into talking by playing on his guilt they were wrong. He grunted noncommittally, a noise they could take for agreement to everything and without further ado Moody pulled an old tin out of his robe.

All three of them turned their backs to him in preparation for the Portkey and not one of them saw Harry's eyes gleaming a vibrant, dark violet.

And then they were whisked away, leaving Harry to ponder their visit and adapt his plan to the new facts. It would be difficult. Harry sighed and crossed his hands under his head.

He just hoped he could hold out long enough.


	3. Chapter 2 : Disturbing Revelations

**Title:** Harry Potter and the Summer's Secret

_**Author:** Japhu _

_**Beta Reader:** Nagi_

_**Pairing:** HPSS_

_**Rating:** R_

_**Disclaimer:** I own nothing of Harry Potter and his world and don't make any money with it._

_**Summary:** For one week in summer Harry disappears without trace. When he comes back he claims to have no memory. But something happened and it changed him. It remains to be seen if for the better or the worse. (will be HPSS)_

_**Category:** action/adventure/angst_

_**Feedback:** highly appreciated_

**

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**Chapter 2 - Disturbing Revelations**

In the past he had made terrible mistakes, but he never made one twice in his life.

That was the reason the dark figure crouched silently behind the bushes at the edge of the woods and observed watchfully through narrowed eyes the ruins of the former residence of Lord Voldemort.

He had come here to the pit of doom on order of his mentor, who wanted to know what had happened as much as he himself.

It was a risk to have come here, for if the Dark Lord was still around it would be his death to have come without summoning.

He could not sense another presence in near vicinity, so he did not rush forward, for too many had seen the end of life for being too sure of oneself.

It urged him to know what had been going on, but he was slow to go further. Whatever it was the Dark Lord had thought to accomplish, it was a puzzle, whose resolution would change more lives than his own.

A few days ago, the tremors of an outburst of raw magical energy had been noticeable throughout the whole country. Even the lesser gifted wizards and witches had felt something shift in the core of magic that penetrated every living being and surrounded the world itself.

He himself had stood numb for a moment, forgetting everything else and relishing in the feeling of liveliness and power in an amount as frightening as it would taint the purest of souls.

As suddenly as it had come, the feeling had given way to the dull grey of everyday life and left him gasping for breath, his heart throbbing painfully in his too-tight chest.

Half an hour later, he had still felt slightly dizzy and unable to catch a clear thought, recounting the unbelievable experience and reliving every second like a drug addict.

That was the moment the Dark Mark had disappeared, and he could not do anything else but sit on the ground and stare at his forearm like it was a foreign being.

Before he could get a grip on himself and possibly go to the headmaster, he furled up in pain when only moments later the Dark Mark appeared again, but now in a dangerously glowing purple that faded after minutes to a hardly visible shade of violet.

The whole event had left him panting on the ground, his voice screamed raw. He had been shaken to the core. Something like that had never happened before; at least it was not heard of.

Hell, he still felt his whole body tremble when he thought about it and he, like all of the others who were marked for life, whether committed to the cause or not, had waited for hours with growing expectation for a summoning by their master.

However, until now it never had occurred. The more time passed without a call from the Dark Lord, the steadier the man grew in his belief that something like that would - just maybe - never have to happen again. Then a repulsive and, in its matter ridiculous, thought had crossed his mind.

That the grating Potter-child had somehow done what nobody wanted to say out loud.

Though, if for some reason the Potter boy had accomplished what was told to be his destiny, one had to ask doubtfully, why the Dark Mark kept burning away his nerves with excruciating pain.

The Potions Master kept himself rigorously from falling into the same trap as everyone else. He refused to believe that a boy as irresponsible and arrogant as that one should be able to do something any grown wizard wasn't competent to do with as easy a snap of the fingers as that.

There had to be a snag somewhere amidst that whole mess.

The figure scowled darkly. Why ever it had happened? Potter had been amidst of that; and to put the lid on it, now the awful boy could not even remember what had caused an outburst of that tremendous strength.

It was absolutely ludicrous and if he were not who he was, he would long since have lain rolling on the ground yanking out his hair or laughing, at least after the report the werewolf and consorts had given rather reluctantly to Dumbledore. Understandable, when they had finished their account of being outsmarted by a dunce.

Apparently they had not noticed the boy coming home. The werewolf and that crazy girl had been sitting in the kitchen indulging an early breakfast when Moody arrived at Privet Drive only a few hours after he had gotten the order to check on him from Albus.

Allegedly the boy had been peacefully asleep, and of course Moody had ranted about Potter's lack of respect for his elders; the wolf seemed rather subdued and lost, as if not knowing where to go.

The shadowed figure, while lurking in the darkness, honestly could not gather what that mangy beast of carnivore found of worth in that child.

The boy was too much like his father. He could not stand that bad egg and its attitude, as much luck as fate seemed to throw on this child. The occurrences of the last days were taking it a bit far.

He could see the Dark Lord obliviating the boy; that much he admitted. However, from whatever directions he looked at the whole charade, he could not bring himself to believe that the Dark Lord would let the Potter boy walk out of his reach with nothing but his memories changed.

It simply was not possible. For too long the wizard had searched for a way to get his hands on him, trying to end his pitiful existence for good.

Why would the Potter boy be telling everyone that he had lost his memories instead of gloating and relishing in his new heights of popularity?

No, somewhere the Dark Lord was still very much alive. He had to be, for the Dark Mark was, even if changed, still burned into his skin and an everlasting reminder of his past deeds.

The new experimental potion he had been making that day had obviously been ruined. That, of course, was Potter's fault, too. However, he did not loathe the boy as wholeheartedly as he displayed during the school year. Loathing was a strong word and solely reserved for the Dark Lord.

When he thought about the boy and his open, bright and mischievous grinning face, he found that he hated the wretched child immensely, at least as long as he could not fire some well aimed insults at its swelling head. The boy did a good job as - he thought the term was punching bag, which Muggles used to get rid of their piled up aggressions. On his list of people not worth knowing Potter held steadfastly his place among the top two.

Deeply immersed in his thoughts, his attentiveness never failed and he stopped like dead on his way when he picked up the rustling of leaves and the breaking of branches just a few meters away from his position in the forest.

His muscles as tense as steel springs, he watched the quietly swaying rows of trees, highly alert, waiting for the source of noise to leave the shadows behind. His breath caught in his chest the nearer it came to his hiding place, which was in itself not really a safe point to stay unnoticeable for a long time. Moving would just have called them over sooner, so he stayed were he was, gripped his wand tighter and hoped his stars were lucky today.

They were four men who stepped out of the woods without care for dangers, and full of themselves if their way of arrogantly strutting in the dirt was any indication. Dark, crimson coloured robes were wrapped tightly around their bodies, the hoods pulled down deeply into their faces.

Oblivious to their silent watcher, one could just make out the outlines of masks, similar to the ones the Death Eaters wore when summoned or at work, but much different in appearance. None the less when they strolled past him as if they thought themselves to be the masters of the world.

Robes and masks alike were from the finest quality, hemmed with black bands of velvet and on one of them a gold border surrounding the sleeves glittered in the sunlight like one of the finest grounded gems.

They talked to each other in low voices, a strange humming noise erupting now and then from their throats. To his utter surprise the watcher couldn't understand one word of what they said.

The puzzle was just getting greater than anticipated.

It was as if Albus had had his own hands in it. He would pull something like that whilst pretending complete innocence to whatever resulted of his scheme and watching with that mad twinkle in his eyes, when everyone else tried to save their hide with as few casualties as one could manage.

The only thing that spoke for Dumbledore's innocence in this matter was his real show of surprise after the Potions Master had gone to the man with the astonishing news of the Dark Mark's changing.

Everything had frenzied at that point. The search for the Potter boy magnified for a short amount of time until Albus called them back all at once without further notice. Only Moody got the order to check on Privet Drive.

Everyone was looking for the centre of the sudden outburst of magic that never had been seen before in its density and strength. The Potions Master did not even know it was possible to call that much magic in oneself and still be able to use it. Maybe it was not possible, and that was the reason for the Dark Mark's change.

The Potions Master looked thoughtfully down on his covered left forearm, aware of what he would see should he pull back the black cloth of his robe.

Nearly invisible, the tattoo was just a thin violet image on his arm. It looked like a badly painted children's picture, but quite often during the last days it would flare up and heat painfully at the most inconvenient times possible.

His contacts that had served years long confidentially as one of the order's most reliable sources for information suddenly were untraceable and the Dark Lord's right hand man still sat rotting away in Azkaban, unaware of any plans his master had come up with during weeks of dwelling on carrying out his revenge on an obnoxious child who had bested him once again.

Despite of his innards squirming like a living beast, the man ignored his instincts that told him to run as fast and far as he possibly could. On countless times these instincts had saved his life in the past.

This time around he consciously decided not to notice his own magic's warning and stepped further into the remains of a monstrous castle, hideous in his gargantuan dimensions and utterly fitting to a man who had left humanity behind long ago.

He waited patiently for a sufficient time for the unknown visitors to disappear in a fissure twice as high as a grown man but just wide enough for a child to wedge through. With a deep breath and a long glance cast at his surroundings he sneaked forward, attentively staying out of the light.

Careful to set his feet on sturdy ground, the Potions Master cursed his fate to leave him with a task like this. Excitement pumped through his veins and the knuckles of his hand turned white until he realized how hard a grip he had on his wand and forced his hand to let loose to be able to flick his only weapon with all his expertise should such a need arise.

He was aware of the risk he incurred when following further, but he needed to know what these strange foreigners were doing in a place where, until days ago, the most feared Dark Lord had resided.

The Potions Master knew the stakes in his job; hence, he listened cautiously for movement before giving up his position to a safer place.

Hidden away behind a much darker part of the collapsed wall, he merged in the shadows as if he himself was nothing more.

Only when his eyes had become inured to the twilight of his new surroundings he took his course down to the subterraneous arches, where the dungeons and laboratories where situated, as well as the torture hall.

Countless Muggles and wizards alike had left their lives in this room whilst the Death Eaters had laughed themselves hoarse with delight at their suffering and participated with mad gleams in their eyes when their victims' screams for mercy echoed through the hall.

He wrinkled his nose when something foul-smelling drifted through the corridors, in which stones, broken columns and knocked over statues bared his way.

Something, or better someone, had obviously been dying in these rooms not too long ago. It was the rotten scent of death the lone spy followed amidst dirt.

Several times he stopped and searched for the magic that surrounded them. Not just their careless behaviour seemed strange in a place like that.

The Potions Master hid his body in a small, partly collapsed alcove and warily looked at the centre of the room where the red robed men had gathered in a loose circle.

His whole being grew stiff and he tilted his head to the side, his eyes going wide in a rare moment of freely displayed, blank astonishment.

Some daylight shone through the cracks in the ceiling and illuminated floating rays of dust. The whole scenery seemed to be taken from a bad novel and the dozen or so lifeless bodies on the ground, all of them clad in the dark robes and white masks, a sign of their service to the Dark Lord, only appeared to emphasize this impression.

What had awoken his rare display of emotion? It was not the corpses of fellow Death Eaters, although he possibly had talked to most if not to all of them at one time.

It was their magic that had caught his interest, for the whole lot of it was utterly ... deranged.

There was no other word to describe it. It was not bound to their inner core the way everyone else's was. In fact, their magical core was not much more powerful than that of an average wizard or witch.

It was the way their magic reacted with the environment that left him awestruck.

Continuously they seemed to draw the magic out of the earth itself in an amount surprisingly strong. It was a task even Dumbledore would have struggled with; impossible for anyone else. These men didn't even need to consciously try. They just did it, and how they did it!

Abruptly the lone witness of the actions that the wizards set in motion sunk deeper into the obscurity of undulating shadows, though he never averted his eyes for one moment for not to miss anything of importance.

The tendrils of magic surged through the space, sucking in violently whatever energy they could get.

From his hiding place he had a good look around the hall, but he was cautious not to get closer. It would have been a temptation for fate to go much further. It was hardly possible without being noticed, anyway. Every sound in this room echoed widely throughout the whole castle.

The Potions Master had chosen his hideout with care. The torture hall was an ample room, but from his vantage point he could see into every corner and the centre lay open in front of him.

He could not fathom them. Unfazed by the dead men, the buzzing of the flies and the penetrating smell, they kept chanting wordlessly, and to his utmost amazement without wands. Arms raised high above their hooded heads, open to receive the whirling wild energy they still soaked up from their surroundings, it seemed as if they tried to invoke some sort of ritual, but up till the unsighted amount of magic they used, they did nothing for him that indicated what the dangerous wizards where doing.

He did not know whether they were allies or foes. There was nothing left for him from which he could draw conclusions to explain the unbelievable happenings.

With a feeling of uneasiness, Severus Snape turned his back to them while blending deeper in the darkness. Deep inside he knew that he would see the mysterious men again much sooner than he would ever want to.

With that thought, he apparated straight to Hogsmeade and hastened to reach the headmaster as soon as possible to inform him of what he had witnessed.

A third party had arrived on the playground and had to be reckoned with.


	4. Chapter 3 : Living Again

**Title:** Harry Potter and the Summer's Secret

_**Author:** Japhu_

_**Beta Reader:** Nagi_

_**Pairing:** HPSS_

_**Rating:** R_

_**Disclaimer:** I own nothing of Harry Potter and his world and don't make any money with it._

_**Summary:** For one week in summer Harry disappears without trace. When he comes back he claims to have no memory. But something happened and it changed him. It remains to be seen if for the better or the worse. (will be HPSS)_

_**Category:** action/adventure/angst_

_**Feedback:** highly appreciated_

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**Chapter 3 – Living Again**

A week had come and gone since the excitement at his birthday, and slowly Harry became accustomed to the changes his body had gone through.

He was lucky to have had the foresight to get rid of all evidence of his absence just an instant before Moody had stormed his room as if to take down a gang of drug dealers. Even if Harry's strength had been drained to nothing in physical and emotional exhaustion, he had to commend himself to a good show.

After the wizards had left, he had not been able to sleep. One thought chased the next and the dreams of Voldemort, alternating between promises of anything he could possibly wish for and threats to the lives of everyone he had ever loved, left him staggering and breathless.

The few days locked up with Voldemort in his hideout had been beneficial in one point that already had stood the test. The experience, although he did not want to repeat it ever again, had been everything Harry needed to get a hold on his occlumency skills, although he could not say whether his method was the official procedure or if it was born out of necessity to stay alive.

Naturally, Harry was not naive or desperate enough to ask one of the two persons who could possibly answer that question to his satisfaction.

His ability was better kept secret for as long as possible, for he had to use everything he could to stay ahead of everyone else. Also, Harry did not think he had gotten every loophole there was. Snape surely would find a way to fool him if Harry took his invincibility for granted.

After all, Snape had fooled even Voldemort, something not many could pride themselves with. Sooner or later Harry would have to heed Hermione's advice and save time to visit the library when he got back to Hogwarts.

For the first few days after his return Harry had to fight fervently to keep up his shields at any time, for the temptation to go with the dark lord's suggestions were strongest.

Eventually, Harry had roused himself and worked on his mental shields with all his might until he believed himself able to know when Tom tried something naughty. Then the day came when his hideous excuse of an uncle remembered his freakish nephew's existence and came rolling in with high speed to drag him out of his sheets.

It seemed that Harry's time for recuperation and grieving was over if his uncle had anything to say about these matters as the boy was shoved through the bathroom door emphatically, given short shrift by his uncle.

When the first drops of water touched his feverish skin, Harry felt himself suck in a sharp breath. He was not one to normally favour ice-cold showers, but the little warm water his uncle allowed would not heat the fluid much more, so Harry forewent that decision and just used the cold water to at least lose the last remnants of the former lord's visit, whose presence echoed through his veins nauseously.

It took only minutes for him to adjust, and Harry held his head high into the spraying wetness and indulged in a moment of silent joy, for he still was breathing and thinking and very much alive. Harry leaned on the cool wall of the shower stall and let his body go limp, unbending his cramped muscles, while thinking what he should do with the rest of his summer.

The matter of killing dark lords had to be put behind for now, because he did not have the resources to further his plan and secondly he wanted to be selfish for once in his life. Surely he wanted to get rid of Voldemort, too, but what everyone else had to say to that matter did not cause him nightmares.

For all Harry cared they could go and sit on a tack. It was not Harry's sole purpose to free them from their bogeyman, but, he admitted with a heavy heart, it was the most important one. Nobody would save him from his fate; each the wizards and witches around the world were busy feeling tremendous relief for not being the one chosen to deal with the evil wizard until one of them died. They had missed the opportunity to disabuse Harry from the notion that he had to follow his destiny's path on the shortest route possible. Nobody had mentioned that he couldn't look for something pleasant while doing so.

It was already too late for any actions to try to prevent the inevitable in any case. Harry had chosen his path and now had to follow it until the very end, but some fun would be good for his self-esteem. Surely they did not want him to hide behind their backs when he went into the ring - not that their backs were wide enough for hiding behind. He laughed at the irony. They did not know that Harry had already won the first round.

Surely in their fight for control Harry just had been lucky to maintain the bond to his body, whereas Voldemort had had to leave the one he occupied to have a chance at taking over Harry's after he had finished ripping his soul to shreds. At least, that was what he had planned on doing after getting his claw-like hands on him.

Tom Riddle had played a game without knowing which cards Harry held in his own hands, a game with unimaginably high stakes. He had underestimated Harry's will to come out of their encounter with his heart still beating. Tom had played a game without a safety net and had fallen. Harry giggled. How could Voldemort have known Harry's when Harry himself had been completely oblivious? It had not helped the dark lord to rip through his mind, searching for hidden secrets that were not there, or to resort to physical violence when Harry could not deliver what he sought.

For all rights Harry should be dancing on the bastard's grave, but the devil's flop had managed to survive once without a body; why should he not do it again? If Harry would have to move into hell with nothing but Tom Riddle's soul as luggage, he would run away with utmost surety. For Tom certainly would not have harps playing for him when he arrived.

So the fact of Tom's second flight was understandable to Harry, as he himself did not want to die just now, as he was not explicitly sure in which way he would be welcomed there. That did not mean that Harry had to stand aside for Tom to take his body. Normally Harry was not against giving presents when he had something to give away; he just did not like to share his body with Tom Riddle's soul. A teacher of his had done so a few years ago and had paid with his life.

Add to that, Harry was certain that the lying bastard was not one to share himself. Should Harry loose control just once, Harry did not doubt that the snake-faced bastard would take the chance offered and throw his soul out of his own body or worse. He could capture Harry's soul in his mind. Just as Harry was doing in that moment with Lord Voldemort's soul itself.

A cackling sound vibrated in Harry's head and a cold tremor ran through his body and forced him to take action. Right away he strengthened his shields to his utmost ability. He must not lose control; he had to keep his concentration at all times. Nothing was more important for the time being.

Abruptly thrown back into the small bathroom in Privet Drive, Harry climbed out of the shower, his mind still working on building his shields stronger and as steady as a rock. He gripped the worn out towel his uncle had ungraciously bestowed upon him and rubbed the goose bumps from his skin vigorously, trying not to think about this alien being caged in his head.

Just getting ready to leave the shower, the towel wrapped safely around his hips and his much used pitiful looking toothbrush, the hilt had broken off times ago, already packed away in his small bag, Harry, out of the corner of his eye, saw something in the mirror and jerked around, filled with dread. Adrenalin surged up and washed away all joy Harry had felt as he ripped away the towel and let it drop carelessly, his eyes never leaving his right hipbone where a glaring violet mark sat innocently on his skin as if it had been there always.

Hesitating, he looked down. It looked like the Dark Mark, Harry realized, but instead of a snake coming out of a skull's mouth it was a lightning bolt much like his scar that pierced through its grinning face and appeared to illuminate the hollow space in the skullcap. Harry swallowed heavily and covered the mark with his hand. It was not even big enough to fill the palm of his hand. With his other hand steadying him on the washbasin, Harry bent down on wobbly knees and picked up the towel to cover the mark at the first opportunity.

Then he held his hand out in front of him and frowned darkly at its quivering form, for he could not allow any weakness. He balled his hands to fists before taking a deep breath and, with determination glowing in his eyes, Harry pulled the cloth away, taking his time to fold it and put it safely on the basin's brink. Every second he got to delay was welcome. Finally, Harry turned to the new absurdity and traced the outlines of the tattoo with still trembling fingers.

If he concentrated on it he could feel a weak breeze of presence, and behind that a mass of fleeting thoughts that were not his own. Desires, hopes and anxieties flooded his mind and where gone before he could consciously acknowledge them.

With furrowed brows, Harry sank down on the plastic stool in the corner, studying the mark with growing interest, never taking his fingers away from it. With closed eyes, Harry could follow the mark's magic into the realms of other people's minds. He could barely make out different people. A father holding his child, another being amused at something; he was gone before Harry knew what the reason for the feeling had been.

When Harry worked with it, he could follow the rays of the magical energy to the bonded and he would know where any man was and what he was thinking. Harry thought that he could read at least the thoughts floating near the surface of a bonded mind, the ones one had just moments before someone decided to give them voice or to stay silent. Harry could not tell one mind from the other. He could not consciously influence whom he was following or what one was thinking, though, perhaps that could be remedied in the future. Surely Harry would be able to draw magic from everyone bonded to him through that mark.

He laughed mirthlessly when a crazy thought crossed his mind. He could drain every living Death Eater, one after the other, until they were just a bunch of squibs. He tilted his head. Harry could kill them, too. He blinked and shook away the anticipation and the temptation of power and felt a shadow of someone fall back into the darkness of his mind.

Was that what Voldemort felt through the Dark Mark's bond? If so, then Harry was wondering why that man had never found out about Snape and his spying for Dumbledore. It did not matter if Voldemort figured out about Snape's treachery now. The trapped, self-appointed lord could not do anything about it and Harry would see to the fact that the bastard would not have the possibility in the future.

With a sigh, Harry gathered his things. When he had come to terms with his being bonded to the Death Eaters through a strange form of the Dark Lord's mark, he would surely find means to use it to his advantage. Now, Harry just wanted to vanish from the face of earth. He did not want to live with that on his hip for the rest of his life. Hopefully the mark would be whisked away when Voldemort's soul perished. He would have to be careful when showering in the dormitory at Hogwarts. Probably he would shower long before any of the other boys.

With newly heightened senses, Harry left the bathroom soundlessly, tiptoed to his bedroom and looked over what he could find. Much choice of clothing was not given to him, in any case. Rags were rags, no matter what colour. With a last glance at Hedwig and the promise to come back to her with a bit of food sooner than later, Harry went down the stairs to take his daily dose of verbal punching. At least he would be left on his own for the rest of the day.

Harry took his uncle's rant without any expression of dismay, and the nagging of his aunt did not bother him in the least. He let the foul words wash over him without listening. He could not have said, what they had been on about if he had to fend for his life? It appealed to him that Dudley chose to ignore him this time around, so Harry nodded to him pleasantly and otherwise did the same.

In silent contemplation Harry left the house and walked down the street in a leisurely pace until he felt an irritating tingle sizzling through his body the moment he reached the border of the wards. Before this summer Harry had not been able to recognize them. Now he relished in his newfound ability while checking them intently.

Harry had fooled them once when he had arrived home at his birthday. He could do it again. Wary not to touch the wards physically, Harry searched for the point of concentrated energy where all of the protecting magic originated from and pushed cautiously until he felt the shields bending under the pressure of his power. It would not do to break the wards even if that would not be a problem.

Harry only had to adjust them to ignore his presence whenever he passed through. Nobody would know differently until they came to Privet Drive for themselves and checked it locally. To be aware of the faintest nuances one would need powers only Dumbledore himself called his own. Harry did not remotely consider how often the man had come here to check on Harry's well-being and his everyday problems with his relatives. Maybe he should rather count how often he hadn't come? The number would be much larger.

With great care Harry pushed and prodded, mended and bound magical energy around its previous object of attention. The wards would still recognize if he was injured in an attack, or if he left the borders of their protection range, but they would not be able to hold him in anymore, or to alert the headmaster when Harry chose to leave the surrounding streets.

Now he was ready to try his first piece of freedom. Harry thought, with a boyish grin, that a little exploration of the neighbourhood was in order.

He did not do anything out of bounds. Harry took a leisurely walk to the park, sat in the sun near the playground and dug his bare feet in the green softness of growing grass. It was the freedom of his mind he sought, and the right to decide what he wanted to do whenever, wherever or whatever he was craving for.

Sitting on a fallen tree trunk, Harry thought about the last weeks. He still felt restless and energetic, filled to the brink with magic that continually sought a release. First he had thought it linked to Voldemort, but for now the snake lord was out of his way and Harry felt even more on edge. It was, as if his body was waiting for something to happen. Could it be that he had received more of Voldemort's powers, like he had received parseltongue? After all he had this odd mark, too.

Twirling around the same thoughts fruitlessly again and again, Harry decided to draw a line under everything that had happened. With a deep breath, Harry stood up and looked around. When he did not see anything strange or important that needed an immediate resolution, Harry chose that moment to start his second childhood and to begin living again for as long and carefree as he possibly could.


	5. Chapter 4 : Temptation's Call

**Title:** Harry Potter and the Summer's Secret

_**Author:** Japhu _

_**Beta Reader:** Hallia_

_**Pairing:** HPSS_

_**Rating:** R_

_**Disclaimer:** I own nothing of Harry Potter and his world and don't make any money with it._

_**Summary:** For one week in summer Harry disappears without trace. When he comes back he claims to have no memory. But something happened and it changed him. It remains to be seen if for the better or the worse. (will be HPSS)_

_**Category:** action/adventure/angst_

_**Feedback:** highly appreciated_

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**Chapter 4 - Temptation's Call**

Vernon Dursley's countless chins and bellies wobbled wildly, punctuating the fat man's irritation in having to drive the freak boy to London. Of course he had refused doing so while other people could possibly see them.

Harry had to get up in the middle of the night to indulge his uncle's bent and to avoid a last, very pointless argument. Harry kept his silence determinedly, for he must not get angry as not to call unwanted attention on his person or worse to lose his control. The need to keep his anger at bay was the most pressing thing that kept rolling through his mind endlessly. Do not lose control!

With an exhausted grin the boy watched Vernon Dursley squeezing himself behind the wheel of his very inconspicuous Muggle car.

Taking his uncle's antics into account, the blubbering piece of crammed goose could not get away fast enough from his freakish nephew and his equally freakish friends, who had to gather at this place in a short amount of time.

To Dursley's excuse it had to be said that Harry's relatives did not have it easy for the last few weeks. Especially his uncle who had had a hard time and now probably needed a good dose of sympathy for his pitiful existence, but the boy would not bother. He had had too much fun for said time, practicing with a very much willing Vernon.

Whenever Harry had not researched one of his newfound abilities with Vernon's help, he stayed out of the Dursleys' way whenever possible. When he was practically caught between his huge relatives he bit his lip in silent suffering. Harry could not always keep pushing them around with magic and obliviate them afterwards. However, at the first oportunity he locked himself up in his room, trying to learn as much as he could on his own.

He was not the poor and innocent boy anymore, friendly and shy and openhearted to everybody. The last school year had proven that good did not always beat evil or that, if it did, then often to a price that was not worth to pay. Cedric's death had opened his eyes, whereas Sirius' death had closed some doors, quietly and still not widely known to his friends that there were doors within him to lock up.

He still had some things to figure out and was not explicitly sure to where his course would lead him. Most certainly he would not end up evil, calling himself dark lord, not if Harry had to decide about it. He would die before he let it get out of control as far as that, if he still was able to think in a straight line when the moment came.

Harry simply hoped to get more powerful. To fulfill his plan he had to master as much of his magic as he possibly could. He had to find ways to open his channels for magic further. In search for an opportunity to use his magical core, Harry would do just that and be happy when the magical backlash did not kill him on the spot.

Until now Harry had not even consciously tried to touch it. Firstly because Tom was too strong a presence in his mind, and secondly because Harry did not know enough about the strength of his rapidly changing magic and more importantly the extent of his own powers to use it just then. Harry knew everything about temptations and even if his magic could not function to the fullest yet, Harry would work assiduously to redeem the fact as soon as possible.

Furthermore he had to thank his brute of an uncle that he now had at least a fairly well idea of what he was capable of, and what things needed an urgent upgrading or rigorous avoidance.

Harry had needed someone to test his new abilities on. The obliviating at the end of each day for the last two weeks probably had left some effect, for Harry could watch the small pig's eyes bustle about for few minutes each time. Of course Harry had not let his more playful side take action and had filled the empty spots with all that boring everyday shit his uncle seemed to bloom in.

How it happened that no one noticed what went on in the Dursleys' much prided residence, was a puzzle Harry still had not solved. It could not be that the ministry did not recognize the wandless bits of spell casting Harry did. After all they found Muggleborn wizards and witches when they did accidentally magic, what was very much wandless, too. Perhaps they had justified their tracers to other districts, as they thought him well watched.

Their ignorance to the Muggles fate was disturbing, too. Should not have one of Arthur Weasley's department come to right the wrongs Harry did to his relatives?

He grimaced when Vernon pulled the car out of the parking space with burning wheels, the brakes grating reluctantly, before driving off from King's Cross station in a frenzy.

When everything passed the way he had planned, Harry would not have to see him, his horse-faced wife or his massive offspring for the next fifty years at least.

The last thing Harry had done before climbing in to the back seat of Dursley's car, was to take down the wards surrounding Privet Drive. When they were gone Dumbledore would have no reason to send him back to that place ever again.

From the two possible ways to take them down, short of breaking them and destroying the house, too, only one was workable. Harry could have turned the wards around, so that his aunt would have been under his protection, but that would not have worked well with Dumbledore, because for the manipulative bastard to stay unaware of the wards' changing, Harry Potter had to be the one guarded. So Harry just had called the wards' protection back to his being, as the blood protection thing prevented handling it in any other way.

It had been but a small problem he had had to work hours to get around, nevertheless. Basically it meant that Harry was from now on guardian and fosterling in one person. It was a little difficult to get the magic to recognize him as both, but eventually Harry had managed that piece of art and he would hold the protection wards around Privet Drive until a month's time or so, when he could let it dissipate slowly as he would be far away by then and could not be held responsible in any way if something went wrong at this front.

Standing at the station a little lost with his only trunk and the bird's cage Harry looked around to decide what he could do now, while preparing to wait for the Hogwarts' Express for more than five hours. It was not even six o'clock and the sun still had not totally fought its way onto the sky.

A hoot from his owl pulled Harry out of his near slumber, and after a moment of ponderous thinking Harry's first good deed for the day was to open his owl's cage and to watch smiling when the beautiful bird soared up into the sky with loud screeching noises. After his birthday Harry had been hesitant to let Hedwig fly freely, but now he was sure that she could find the way to Hogwarts safely on her own and would not get caught up in some scheme of a madman ... or by a crazy uncle with a gun. After he lost sight of her Harry rubbed his rapidly dropping eyes. He had not gotten much sleep during the last days between his constantly pestering relatives, a raging Tom and the need to learn anything he could.

Harry looked down at the empty cage and his trunk. He absolutely refused to haul that thing with him for hours. He would not have any muscles left in his arms. It took only a small flick of his wrist and Harry had shrunken everything with a satisfied grin and summoned it to his hand. He blinked, looking fixedly onto his palm. The cart was not part of his Hogwarts' utensils, was it not? With a blush worth of a Weasley Harry bend down and enlarged that one piece again. It would have been embarrassing, had anyone he knew been watching. With a glimpse at the few hurriedly passing people Harry assured that this was not the case, before taking a large step away from the corner and away from people, who would noticing him hanging around the station for too long a time.

Harry strolled around Muggle London in a leisurely pace someone took when one was without obligations, though, his thoughts continuously circled around Voldemort. Harry still had not figured out all of what had happened during the ritual itself. Everything Harry could recount was his feeling of being alive for the first time in his existence. When Voldemort had tried to take Harry's body and soul, it had felt - for a moment - as if he was thrown out of his narrow existence, where he floated to something unrecognizable great and energetic. It had felt good, until he was pulled back again being more aware of magic - his, other people's, the world's in general. It was as if someone had given him a new sense to experience the world as it really was thought to be, for everything had been more … there.

It was during that short moment when Harry had felt the panic rising within Tom, as he took everything to bind the Dark Lord and to hold him, until Harry somehow had managed to erect mental walls of a strength he never had been able to do before and anyone would be hard pressed to break them.

How Harry had known this to be the only way to come out of their encounter alive and whole as he had gone in, he could not have said it if tortured. He just had gathered his magic to hit back. Harry would not be able to repeat it consciously. Magic was a fleeting thing, ever had been, at least as long is it concerned him.

Harry had been left with a terrible ache in his head and every part of his body was burning in pain, while Tom had tried desperately to break the shields Harry had surrounded him with.

Harry smirked darkly when a brief thought of anger grazed his mind from within. Tom did not like to be reminded of his failure. Too bad. Harry would have to think about it more often then. An angry Tom would not be able to destroy Harry's shields.

Yawning Harry wandered further. He just wanted to sit down somewhere and close his eyes. His feet were beginning to hurt. The shoes were not quite what one needed for a long range walk, but as everything else they would have to do.

With a deep sigh of boredom Harry took his much used Doing-For-Fun-list out of his pocket and studied it intently. A lot of things had been crossed out already, but some were still open. Now that Harry had the luxury of doing things he liked, he had found it hard to decide what to do first on his very long list, and as Surrey did not have much to give to tourists, Harry had decided without further ado that he would make his way into the heart of the city he lived in since his birth, but had never once seen.

During the last weeks Harry had seen more of London than ever before. Now he could truly say that he lived here. Despite Tom's presence he had managed to push thoughts concerning dark lords and a rising war back into the darkest corner of his mind to keep that slimy thing of a tainted soul company. For the first time in his life Harry had gone into a cinema, as a matter of principle an event quite enjoyable, but for Harry a dodgy thing to do. At least, Harry thought, it would need a lot of persuading before he was ready to give it another go, ever. He was glad to put that experience behind him.

Not quiet right for his group of age, Harry had gotten into the cinema nevertheless, of course only with a little bit help of magic. Sitting in the darkness with people screaming now and then, while Tom choose that moment to make himself known, was not a thing Harry wanted to get used to, for it had too much of reality to be even halfway entertaining. The stark mad cackling that had run chillingly through his body, had left Harry for the rest of the film sitting alert and unable to keep his concentration on the screen, as good as the show might have been otherwise. The Muggles certainly had seemed to enjoy it. Even now a shiver ran down Harry's spine when he thought back to the dark room and the screams. Much too much reality!

After that horrible event Harry had decided to stop being selfish. So he had listened to his grumbling belly and had had another first, a much greater success in review. Straight out of the cinema Harry had gone into his first MacDonald's restaurant ever. He had gotten himself filled up with cheeseburgers, coke and French fries, until he had to loosen his waistband, a thing that needed attention, for he still wore exclusively Dudley's cast offs. And alone the first time he did not feel hunger gnawing in his stomach, gave him a feeling of pure joy hardly anything could have topped.

Harry swallowed. Today he still had not eaten anything, but as he did not have any Muggle money left, it was a thought for future thinking. His last meager meal Harry had had the day before at breakfast. His dinner had been canceled without further ado, because Vernon held the opinion that Harry had looked him up and down without the required respect and admiration.

Harry had not disabused Vernon from that notion, for it certainly would be the one thing his uncle was right about. Looking at the big oaf in the wrong way, if taking the oaf's view to things into account, had been a thing Harry had indulged in delight many times. His uncle was not capable of counting the lots of occurrences in his empty bowl of a head Harry had done to 'Vernon-Watching' just in order to forego absolute boredom more than once or a dozen times.

It was not that the Dursleys could have forbidden him to eat; Harry would just have to send them to their rooms again. No, this time Harry had simply forgotten to satisfy his body's needs, as he was busy with fighting off a new attempt of Tom to free his soul.

His stomach growled and Harry shoved the much abused list back into his pocket. He should not have thought about food. Now he could not get away from it. He cursed his stupid stomach. In a few hours it would be stuffed with chocolate frogs, pumpkin pasties and Bertie Bott's.

Thinking of Hogwarts brought other stuff to Harry's attention. A visit to Diagon Alley was long since overdue. Until now he had stayed far away from widely known magical places, but he still had hours until the point of no return and the departure of the Hogarts' Express. Harry would not loose any time, for he had other means to travel, even if not taught in Hogwarts. Still wavering Harry weighed the pros and cons, but his stomach had the decisive voice, for it growled like one of Hagrid's beasts and Harry felt really hungry.

A few galleons still should be gathering dust in his trunk. He would have to enlarge it of course, but he would get something to eat before he lost consciousness. Surely he could stay out of sight long enough to risk a furtive glance, for he still needed his school books.

Harry's brows furrowed. Disquieting was just the fact that he could feel the magic of the place even here. Harry did not know how much he was able to take. He still was not feeling wholly comfortable to not stumble over his own feet whenever his magic reached for sources with an equally strong core of energy to bond itself and to strengthen and to widen its scope. But as despite everything else he still was a growing youth, Harry decided to take the risk and to run if he felt himself growing dizzy or numb or especially energetic. He laughed silently. He would not wonder if he turned out to be addicted, for he could not turn off the magic wherever he went - and he sounded like one already.

Slowly his steps took him to the Leaky Cauldron. If this summer did not have happened, Harry would have gone straight through, but today he felt something off. So Harry stared intently at the entrance way to the Wizarding World.

He leaned back against a wall of a house opposite the Cauldron, his foot propped up behind him and his arms crossed over his chest. Harry waited for his magic to calm down or to reveal what had made it bursting like that. Like a breeze of air he seemed to vanish from the corner, sinking silently deeper into the darkness; watching, widely awake and very much hidden among the shadows.


	6. Chapter 5 : Unexpected Encounters

**Title:** Harry Potter and the Summer's Secret

_**Author:** Japhu _

_**Beta Reader:** Hallia_

_**Pairing:** HPSS_

_**Rating:** R_

_**Disclaimer:** I own nothing of Harry Potter and his world and don't make any money with it._

_**Summary:** For one week in summer Harry disappears without trace. When he comes back he claims to have no memory. But something happened and it changed him. It remains to be seen if for the better or the worse. (will be HPSS)_

_**Category:** action/adventure/angst_

_**Feedback:** highly appreciated_

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**Chapter 5 - Unexpected Encounters**

Harry stood watching people going in and coming out of the Leaky Cauldron for half an hour and nothing but his magic's vicious flaring indicated anything wrong. But even so Harry would not set one foot further. If others did not, he had learned from past mistakes. Motionless and silent as a statue Harry stayed where he was, thinking about all and nothing.

So it happened that he almost missed what he had been waiting for, completely lost in his thoughts. If it were not for his magic buzzing and practically singing a foreign hum that went ringing in his ears until he believed himself gone deaf to the world, he would still be staying and waiting and would have missed the lone visitor, never seen before.

It was a spontaneous decision that led Harry to build up his mental walls stronger than ever, literally tying Tom up at hands and feet - at least he would have, if Tom still had a body with him.

Harry looked up and down the street, but nothing more was forthcoming. Thinking about the risk he was going to take, all of his earlier thoughts about learning and not repeating past mistakes were blown out of his mind, as Harry ever so cautiously pulled up the hood of his jumper and followed the golden robed man inside the Leaky Cauldron. When Harry closed the door behind him, his eyes narrowed.

A quick glance around showed him that the man in the golden robe had gone already, and by the noise erupting from the gathered crowd he had left a chaos behind. The one positive thing Harry found was that not one of them appeared to notice his silent figure, as he stepped amidst them quietly to cleave a way through that bubbling and blistering cluster of wizards and witches, who were animatedly gossiping about one thing only. And at this time today it were not The-Boy-Who-Lived's escapades, as Harry noted with some relief. He would not have had to worry about being recognized.

He listened attentively, while making his way past the excited owner, who took most of the talking on his own head. Obviously Harry was not the only one who could feel the strange man's magic surging through anyone, as if he did not have the least bit of control over his abilities. Yet, Harry recognized the only people who had an inkling about anything, were the ones with a stronger than average magical strength and were mostly masters in some way or another.

The boy heaved a sigh when he exited the crowded room, glad to leave the dithering Cauldron's guests to their assumptions, for he had is own investigation to further. It was just what he needed, that they might loose their focus and concentrate on the people passing through with him still inside. After a last glance back Harry followed the golden robed man silently the only way he could have taken and stopped outside next to the brick wall he had gotten the first of many surprises when Hagrid had introduced him to the Wizarding World.

Harry opened the hidden entrance while grazing the appropriate stones just with the tips of his fingers. Even for that tiny little bit of doing magic he had to restrain his strength with all his might, lest he had to leave the wall behind in dust.

Harry drew a trembling breath and stared at the bustling street, silently admonishing himself for his reckless behavior. He had acted too fast. He had for just one moment forgotten the huge amount of magic holding this place. A really reckless and dangerous thing to do in his position.

He leaned against the wall, concentrating on drawing deep and regular breaths. Again he found himself bending his head, supporting his weight on his knees with white knuckled fists and tightly closed eyes. _Stupid Harry_, the boy thought rasping, _you know that you can't hold that much magic on your own. You know and you rush in, nevertheless._

Harry shook his head helplessly. There was no way he could withstand his own curiosity when it worked hand in hand with his magic. He knitted his brows. Sometimes Harry thought the magic almost visible and he wished fervently to be wrong for it was a frightening picture when that huge amount of different colored tendrils of light fought its way to and through people twisting, bonding together and erupting with bursts of energy now and then and everyone just walking through as though all was quite right, which it would be in their eyes, but not in Harry's.

When he opened his eyes after wishing to the stars for a wonder he could still see the magic everywhere. It had been worth a try. He felt the people's strength, could tell if they were good in charms or potions or had an aptitude to certain things or problems with others. He could see their magic interacting, weaving patterns of tremendous variety, some more complicated than others, but all of them beautiful and all of them pulling him further ahead. There had to be a way to put that off if not necessarily needed.

Harry held his head tightly with both hands pressed against his temples. He could not fully suppress a soft whimper when his head ached fiercely. Harry winced, while concentrating hard on his aim. He could feel the golden robed wizard, too. It was the same as it had been with Moody and Lupin, but much stronger, more aware. At that time he had not really thought about it. He had just taken it for granted, but it all belonged together.

He stood up abruptly, his eyes having lost their focus, staring blindly ahead. It was like a magical fingerprint, similar to the ones the Muggles used to identify their criminals. Most people's magic was a steady buzz, nothing exciting, except the fact of seeing magic itself. The golden robed man's magic stood out of the crowd's signature. It glowed and hummed insistently even when he was not anywhere near in person. The pull was so strong that Harry had to physically restrain himself to not follow it right across the alley. Harry seized the nearest lamppost as if it was his lifeline.

His head tilted to the side he concentrated on separating the narrowly woven trails of magic. There were more then one, Harry could tell. More wizard's with that strange magic. He could feel himself breaking out in a sweat. There was just so much and not just the strange, outstanding ones. Even from here Harry could feel Ollivander's, too. The old man's magic seemed quite similar to the gold robed man's and his friends, when he thought about it a moment longer, though, Harry could not tell why he was able to identify him by his magic but none of the other people.

Swallowing, as if in a trance Harry entered Diagon Alley, letting go of the lamppost only reluctantly, instinctively relishing in the magic that was all around him, on him, surging through him like it had just waited for him to come and recognize it. But Harry did not, he could not. It was too much. He felt his knees going weak and thought desperately that he could not pass out on the middle of Diagon Alley.

A moment later it was gone. The magic was still there, but it did not rush forward anymore, for it seemed to have noticed his inability to handle that much at once. Harry straightened himself and looked around. Nobody had interrupted their shopping, nobody looked at him askance. He was still incognito. Harry sighed. He had to find a way to prevent such disturbing occurrences in company with his friends as soon as possible.

Abruptly Harry remembered what had brought him here in the first place and he send his magic out to find the golden robed man, careful not to disturb the different layers of magical presences, for he did not know if someone was able to tell whether Harry had had his fingers on them.

Harry could sense the man and the other wizards equal to him not far away, but in a part of Diagon Alley he had never been in before. He could not even remember having seen the archway to the small dark lane, hidden behind the shop were Hagrid had brought Hedwig for him long years ago. A shudder ran down his spine, as Harry could feel them only a hair's breadth away.

There was something greater going on that kept rigorously just out of Harry's reach, but he could feel Tom running against the walls with malicious intent and knew for sure that, whatever it was, Tom knew. And ever so slowly Harry went further into the dim lit alley, berating himself for not having enough sense to stay back and to wait in a quiet corner for the time to go back to King's Cross station.

Dozens of small arches and back streets plunged in blackness, made him feel like hurrying through a maze. He didn't stay long to memorize the way. Either way Harry would just need to follow the still pulsing threads of magic, leading him straight to where the wizards were heading to.

He could feel them barely a few steps from the dark corner he made himself invisible behind. They were searching, tasting the air, stretching out widely from where they stood and Harry felt drawn to them. The men's magic seemed oddly known to him. His eyes widened unconsciously when vague images appeared in front of his eyes. He had seen them before.

Harry could not say whether he got a flash of Tom's memories or if it were his own, but they had been there when Voldemort tried to bind his soul to Harry's body. Harry had still been mostly unaware of his surroundings, resting from hours of torture, but they had been there. Harry was sure now. They had been helping to…

A sharp pain in his head let him bend his knees unwillingly. Gasping Harry tried to keep his footing. It would not do to be found lying on the ground screaming. Gritting his teeth Harry fought back. What had brought on such a vigorous ... reaction from Tom? The golden robes?

Deeply immersed in his thoughts Harry gathered his wits and went to the darker part of the street, where he sunk down against a pile of boxes and barrels. Who were they? What did they want? Harry sent a fleeting thought to Tom. _Why are you so eager to see them?_

He could still feel them and their magic's aggressive search for nourishment, even if not as strong as before. It left him quite scared, because he could not defend against something he knew nothing of.

Harry crouched low on his knees, slowly raising his head in a soundless move to peer around his hideout and to watch what was going on, barely able to keep himself from stepping out to become a part of their circle of energy and give way to the constant nagging of his magic.

What were they searching for in a crazy way like that? Sane people would just go to the appropriate ministry's department or try and send an owl at a venture. One did not meet in creepy places, doing magic not even the most well read wizards or witches had heard of before. His heart beating rapidly Harry slid his head above the boxes and watched - and nearly fell back in fright.

He should have realized that they were able to sense him coming. The next time he encountered them he would be careful to hide his magical aura, too, and not only keeping himself from touching the trails.

One arm raised in the boy's direction, the gloved fingers spread widely, one of the golden robed men began to chant something in a low voice, oddly melodious and vibrating through Harry's whole body, while a part of him registered the other three men standing and observing completely motionless.

Harry saw the man's magic stretching, approaching him slowly but steadily. Somewhere back in his head Harry thought that the man did not seem to be too aware of the fact that Harry actually could see what he was doing, for the wizard seemed to expect him to stay there and wait until he had finished whatever it was.

Sizzling and bustling the tendrils grew rapidly and Harry woke from his stupor abruptly when the first magical lightning hit a barrel's surface only inches away from where his head had been just a moment ago. And it was only a backlash, some straying spark of the spell that hit him in a vibrantly livid blood-red color and gave him an electric shock that let his hairs stand on edge.

On hands and feet Harry stumbled backwards, crawling through the mud until he found time to unbend. It was more his utter surprise then anything else that set him off. The shoulder the spell had hit him stung just enough to remind him that he was not playing a children's game. He was not to proud to take his chance in flight when it meant living. For when Tom wanted him to stay it was safest for Harry to do anything but that. And Harry admitted, gritting his teeth firmly, that the tiny little bit of palpable fear may have had a thing to do with his decision, too.

Harry did not know how to fight something like that and just now he did not want to die trying, not when he was already halfway down the road to fulfill his destiny. Golden robed wizards were another guy's problem to take care of. Not looking back to see if they followed was the hardest Harry had done in a long time. He tried to keep a clear brain and not to hurry on the spur of the moment. It was not easily done, while he still felt the magic drawing him back, pulling the air he needed to breath right out of his lungs. All the while he had to try and keep Tom quiet in his cell. It was a hard thing to do, for Harry could hardly concentrate on holding his shields, let alone building some new one around them.

Somewhere along the line, though, Harry was already beginning to get desperate, as he lowered himself against a projection on a wall. Trying to catch his breath he looked around wide eyed. Not a living soul was to see, but he could feel them still. What a deep mess he had gotten himself into now, Harry could only estimate.

Obviously those golden robed wizards were not going to fight on his side during the war. He would be more cautious next time, he really would. How should he have known what he would find, Harry thought, but relented almost instantly, for when he was truthful, what had he thought to achieve by following that man into something that was obviously set up? If they had wanted to catch him or someone else was a question that needed to be answered when he got out of his current predicament unscathed.

He cringed and suppressed a surprised and painful yelp. Why could not Tom stay silent for once when Harry needed all his concentration to get away. The boy grimaced, while puttying the breaches in his magical shields as fast as he could, for he felt the pull again. Vicious bastard. That snake face actually tried to help these wizards catching him! What, for Merlin's sake, was their connection to Tom?

With the firm intention to hide further down, opposite the direction he could feel them coming from, Harry stood up and took a few cautious steps. Though, without consciously deciding to do just that, Harry found himself turning in motion, taking a step further into their direction, while asking himself what he was doing.

Nearly he could feel his magic recognizing them. His veins throbbed and his field of vision narrowed, until he could just make out the group of wizard, bathing in raw energy, being alive in a way Harry had never been. They were like he, they possessed the same powers, the same energy.

Somewhere deep inside his head he could feel someone laughing viciously, bathing in a feeling of triumph, but it was not important. Nothing was important. He just had to get to these men to be one of them. Since the day of his change Harry had not felt that much…

…and Harry flinched back with an embarrassing, squeaking noise and whirled around all in one move when a hand leaned heavily on his shoulder, holding him in his place and another one pressed onto his mouth, preventing him from revealing himself to something he could not possibly like.

Harry was pulled back roughly, deeper into the shadows and further down through a hole in some picket fence. Hastened to keep up with his rescuer's rapid strides, while being grasped tightly at his collar, unable to breath or to think or to do anything else but running, Harry was hauled into an abandoned storeroom, dirty, smelly and luckily empty of golden robes or magical trails vivid enough to follow, save their own of course.

Wordlessly shoved into a dark corner Harry was being held in an implacable grip he was unable to unfasten even slightly. He felt like being pulled out of a torrential rapid, rescued from a whirlpool of, Harry saw it now, very dangerous temptation.

Harry blinked, slowly coming around the fact that he must have been under some sort of spell, because he would not have been stupid enough to leave his hiding place on his own free will. Harry berated himself. At first he was to weak to withstand this … thing, and now he had not even felt the man's approach. Too much magic was around this place for him to be able to distinguish between persons and animals and objects alike. Everything was just filled to the brink with this low buzzing energy that tried to coerce him to answer its call, wherever it lead to.

Finding himself under a scrutinizing black stare, Harry mustered up enough backbone to put the experience away for later inspection, while preparing himself for an argument with a Potions Master who seemed livid enough to roast him alive.


	7. Chapter 6 : Magical Means

**Title:** Harry Potter and the Summer's Secret

_**Author:** Japhu _

_**Beta Reader:** Hallia_

_**Pairing:** HPSS_

_**Rating:** R_

_**Disclaimer:** I own nothing of Harry Potter and his world and don't make any money with it._

_**Summary:** For one week in summer Harry disappears without trace. When he comes back he claims to have no memory. But something happened and it changed him. It remains to be seen if for the better or the worse. (will be HPSS)_

_**Category:** action/adventure/angst_

_**Feedback:** highly appreciated_

* * *

**Chapter 6 - Magical Means**

When the man was sure the impossible child had calmed down and would keep quiet he took the hand away from its mouth, wiping it off at his robe when the boy looked at him inquiringly and strangely silent.

Enough time had passed since they had talked to each other, or against – depending on the point of view – to calm down and to preserve any harbored feelings one might had have in the last year. What run through Severus Snape's veins now was cold fury and wanting.

Wanting to kill the careless boy, to drown him and to rip him apart. The Potions Master ground his teeth and breathed deeply through his nose, the wings trembling with suppressed desire to throttle him. The year had not even started, yet, and he had to rescue that Potter-whelp again already. What did that fool have to do in this part of Diagon Alley and at this time of the day, anyway? Wanting to know just that, he asked in a slightly different way, his voice filled with contempt and fury.

"What possessed you idiot Gryffindor to go nosing around here, while everybody is out to keep you safe! Do you want to follow that mangy mutt of your godfather right now? What, Potter, makes you believe being above the rules to stroll around an area off-limits for children and brainless dunderheads like you?" The man raged calmly in a low voice, but his eyes were like steel.

"Wait, until we're out of here, Potter!" he promised uninvitingly with a low grunt, never leaving both of his eyes from the small crack in the wall, where he had a good look down the strait and gloomy way in front of them. His narrowed eyes flickered around, watching the boy biting his tongue from saying whatever salacity's were going through the empty skull of his.

Harry just looked, grinding his teeth when his mind caught on at what the mean bastard was implying. It was strange, how one could bring so much hate across by being just barely audible.

Still mostly busy with his more urgent problems, like the spell he had been under and Tom's new aggressiveness, Harry had not been overly attentive to the ranting of the spy that was sparking off negative feelings as much as others had hairs on their head. What did the git have to do here, anyhow, while being at the fact of nosing around? The sign to warn off people from this area had not been put up on the archway for children – Harry had seen it out of the corner of his eye – but for grown up people who were led to temptation to seek an adventure or to follow strange wizards – like Snape had obviously done, too.

Had the man spied on them? How did he know about them? Maybe from a Death Eaters' meeting? Not daring to ask anything, for the git might think of the idea to question him more seriously, Harry just looked at him. He would have to think thrice before he said something of importance in hearing range of the greasy git.

"Get your head out of the gutter and stop staring, Potter!" the immediate answer came forward viciously and an inquiring glance followed after a moment when Snape took a break in observing the surroundings attentively. "Do you really have taken leave of your senses, or are you just downright stupid, Potter?"

Harry clenched his teeth, trying desperately to stay on his path to hold his anger and dislike down from being too obvious and not in the least to avoid any dangerous occurrences like loosing control over his magic like a small child trying to adjust to the growing power in his still too small body.

And Harry had to deal with Tom in a short time. If he had not build such strong shields, Tom would have broken free already when Harry had tried to get away from the golden robed men before Snape had come to his rescue. Harry thanked his luck, foresight or fate – hell, all of them together – for having strengthened his shields beforehand; and he drew a deep, but carefully silent breath as not to call the Potions Master's attention unnecessarily.

"Can't answer a simple question, can you?"

Harry bit his lips. _I mustn't get angry. I'll ... must not!_ Harry insisted, mumbling beseechingly to himself. He could feel a torrent of anger surging through his body, finding its way through his own mark and being amplified by his connecting magic. But Harry knew at first sight that it was not his own. It was Snape's feelings towards him, towards his stupidity and rule breaking, towards his easy life and his undeserved fame. Harry would have laughed if the situation were not that dire.

Harry still was not fully acquainted to the change in his body. His wand was not enough to canalize that lot of magical energy. Whenever he used it, everything would go awry. It would be bad if he lost control now … or ever.

"I was just ..." Harry found himself biting out, while trying to unfasten the entwining of their magic, "watching these strange ... golden robes ..., sir." And he stopped, reminding himself who it was he was speaking to, when he saw a head jerk around. Harry would not even have said that much if he had not felt like breathing viscous liquid instead of air. _Careful, Harry._ _You don't want to dig your own grave. _Determined Harry set to his task.

What was it that he could not control it? Or had it always been there and Harry just had been unable to sense it? If he could at least have stopped to perceive the emotions the man next to him lived through at this moment. Their proximity to each other did not help the matters. It was hard to keep his own anger separated from Snape's. Hell! If the man knew, Harry would not see the light of day ever again.

Harry tried to ignore Snape's intent eyes on him, while never leaving his task. If the man knew Harry felt his irritation, Snape would possibly dig his own grave and Harry would be spared.

The Potions Master looked at him, as if seriously taking in consideration to vivisect him, to see if there was a brain left somewhere, though it was surprising that the man had not flown right off the handle and at Harry's throat when he found him where he should not have been. So these golden wizards were good for something at last.

The halfway … decent way of talking kept Harry alert, although it was not anywhere near to normal, it was simply wrong after the way he had spit at Harry during the last months of fifth year. Harry bit his lips with determination. He did not plan to apologize to Snape ever for 'violating' his privacy by jumping at the chance to take a look into his memories. Why the hell had he put that thing at a place where everyone could find it? As someone who taught at a school full of growing and highly curious children who thought him to be the devil's incarnate, the man should have been aware of what would happen if only one of the children got its hands on it. It was his own fault for not being more perceptive, having his head buried into some stinking cauldron.

The man was a spy, for Merlin's sake. He should have a way to keep hidden what should stay a secret. Though, Harry admitted that it had been a bit embarrassing for Snape, to know what memory Harry had watched. But embarrassment was not enough to excuse Snape's reaction. And when Harry was truthful, he thought it served the git right to get a damper on his head for once. Now he at least had something to go off about what Harry had really done. Sure, Harry had been irresponsible, but he would cook an egg on his head if Snape would not have done the same if he had come across Harry's Pensieve; not that he had one, or would use one if he had. His memories were not for other people's eyes. They stayed safest right where they were, preferably in his head.

Snape had much more on his back to be sorry for, anyway. And did he apologize? No. Harry shook his head. They would not ever participate in conversations set in cosy surroundings. Harry scoffed and ignored the menacing posture the man displayed even when crouching. As if he ever would want to.

Dumbledore had hoped they would overcome their dislike for each other, see the similarities and maybe even become friends in later time. Ha, as if! Maybe he should show that talking lemon drop what happened when he put his nose into things that did not concern him even with two eyes pressed tightly.

He was pulled out of his thought to plan something against the headmaster by Snape's whispered, but not less sarcastic comment: "There was nobody in golden robes, Potter. Get your head out of the heights."

"Of course there were, sir." Harry could not help but disagree fervently. Were not these men the reason they were hiding in some disgusting smelling hole? By being interrupted as abruptly as that, Harry forgot his decision to take in what Snape gave out. Harry looked at him with narrowed eyes. He would like to blow up his Potions teacher like he had done his aunt once. There could not be anyone, who would possibly look out for Snape to catch him when he was floating up to the sky with flaying arms and a screeching voice taking house points from Gryffindor. He smirked unconsciously, not realizing how scary he looked with an expression like that.

"Don't try your impertinence with me, Potter!" Snape snarled with fierce coldness. Every 'sir' that came out of the brat's mouth carried an echo of insolence and Severus Snape found himself getting more angry by the minute. If not for their precarious situation he would have gotten that boisterous child back to ground by now. "It won't agree with you … and 50 points from Gryffindor for saying something you shouldn't even be aware of, whelp."

Harry suppressed the sudden urge to giggle. With Snape taking points one part already had been set in motion. Now he just needed to blow him up. What a pity that it had been accidental magic and if Harry tried it now, Snape probably would explode on the point with the amount of power Harry possessed without having much control over it.

"I don't think it's appropriate to take points when the school year hasn't even started officially … sir." Harry threw in heatedly, staying in place for his professor, who expected him to answer back. Not that Harry cared much about house points at this moment or would even later, being busy to research the library for books about marks, rituals and this strange magic. There would not be any adventures.

Harry had decided to stay as much in character as he could, which meant he had to do a few rule breakings to ease their minds; that meant to be angry when a Snape threatened him with house points and to be in a fury when he ridiculed his parents. Of course then Harry would really be hard pressed to keep his cool, but Tom would be there to remember him of a failure's consequences.

Harry caught an inquisitive look directed at him and conjured up an innocent smile. Maybe his almost-calm in a situation like that was not as Harry-Potter-like as Harry would like to believe. But what did that man really know of Harry's acting in live and death situations, or Harry in general? Though, Harry would need to put some work on that when he got back to Hogwarts. Until then however, he could just perhaps have a bit of fun with the ugly potions git. He grinned playfully, shoving back their current situation to think more clearly.

Harry had not spoken one really nasty word to that wretched man after their little spit fight. This year Harry still had to say something insulting to him. Until now he had just been truthful, if a bit indifferent and cool in demeanor. Maybe that was what spooked the Potions Master. However, Harry did not care anymore. He had had enough of that man for a day.

"Didn't you want to get out of here, sir?" He asked with donned politeness.

"Are you trying to get yourself killed, Potter?" the Potions Master hissed infuriated, but still quietly, for one did not forget yearlong spying just because one was surrounded by idiots, "or does it appear that I am correct in my guess that you have that thing commonly called head on your shoulders only to carry that mop of hair?" What a waste! The man sneered contemptuously, but his expression was lost, for nobody even glanced at him.

As silently as he could manage Harry pushed himself up. When the git wanted do go, they would do just that. Harry started resolutely down the dark alley, following the fleeting glimmer of magic he could grasp here and there. He wanted proof. What Snape had said about the robes did not stop badgering him. Harry would get to them close enough to see if his eyes had been lying. He just had to be careful.

Breathing regularly he concentrated hard on his task, following the feeble remains of their presence. Everyone else's aura would have been dissipated long ago.

Fighting off the Potions Master's attempts to hold him down, Harry crept out of the small room, climbing silently over some broken planks and debris and followed the street to risk another glance further down to were the golden robed wizards had been gathering out of the oh so watchful ministry's eyes. Of course they were not here now, but their magic was a lot stronger already and Harry felt the uneasy pull echoing in his innards from afar, also Tom seemed to become alive again, struggling fiercely to free his bound soul abruptly.

Harry bit his lips in pain, but ignored Tom for the time being, beckoning the Potions Master to him, knowing the man had followed even without help from his magic or his mark. Obviously the man knew when to put his less then forthcoming feelings behind. Bad luck he was not as knowledgeable as now in Hogwarts.

"There, you see," Harry whispered in an I-said-so-voice and pointed out to Snape first hand what he meant with some satisfaction, "The golden robes."

These few did not appear to wear masks like the ones at Voldemort's hideout. Nevertheless, their faces were invisible, for the hood was pulled down deeply and hid any features that may have been there. The few parts Harry had been able to make out in the dim shadows he tried to recall fruitlessly. Harry just found himself thinking of a grey wall, as if they had spelled themselves to stay unrecognizable to anyone watching. It would be a thing worth learning if Harry could somehow figure out how they did it.

They were not as near to them as Harry had been before, though, now he tried to keep himself and Snape hidden from their senses. Of course Harry did not really have an inkling to what he was doing, but as the robed men still were not on the way to catch him and his professor snooping around, he had to do a passable job on it. Or maybe they just were not as perceptive as he had believed at first. Harry thought it a bit stupid, continuously thinking the same line again and again, repeating it like a mantra in his mind: "Don't find us! Don't see us! We are not here! Don't find us!" But as it seemed to work, he went on with it, keeping to the saying: Better safe than sorry.

Harry watched them curiously. He did not feel as overwhelmed as before. Now he knew what he had to expect of them and he would not be surprised either when they tried something again. Maybe it was the Potions Master's presence, which told him that as long as the spy was being silent but calm, they were not in current danger to loose their lives. However, in whatever way one looked at them, the robes they were wearing, while patrolling through the lane with such stoicism, as if they had all the time of the world, were of a bright golden color.

Harry shook himself violently when Snape murmured lowly into his ear. Even while whispering, the unpleasant man somehow managed to get his voice to sound as stuffed with emotions as a brick wall.

"Are you blind as well as dumb?" Snape turned his head silently. "Look again, Potter. There is not one in a golden robe!" The spy, who still did not know that he did not have to be one anymore, sounded oddly thoughtful, as he watched the boy.

Why were these wizards lurking around really? Harry turned around the thought in his head. Something just did not add up. If they had wanted him, than they would be more persistent in following him. Harry knew they could see his magic, so they would not have a problem to find him. Why did they not? Or could they not anymore? And what was it with the robes?

"You're sure?" Harry looked at the robes with curiosity, ignoring the tone of voice his Potions Master bequested him with. "It is not golden?" Harry truly was at a loss.

"Didn't I say that already, boy?" The Potions Master kept one eye continuously on the wizards.

"Well, what color is it then if not gold, … sir?" Harry felt himself getting angry despite all his effort and he narrowed his eyes, feeling Tom getting excited and suppressed anything he wanted to say to the git, to use his strength to get Tom to quiet down and to suppress a wince when his head burst into flames.


	8. Chapter 7 : Using Emotions

**Title:** Harry Potter and the Summer's Secret

_**Author:** Japhu _

_**Pairing:** HPSS_

_**Rating:** R_

_**Disclaimer:** I own nothing of Harry Potter and his world and don't make any money with it._

_**Summary:** For one week in summer Harry disappears without trace. When he comes back he claims to have no memory. But something happened and it changed him. It remains to be seen if for the better or the worse. (will be HPSS)_

_**Category:** action/adventure/angst_

_**Feedback:** highly appreciated_

* * *

**Chapter 7 - Using Emotions**

Pain. Hot, excruciating pain.

A low moan struggled out of Harry's throat, as he clenched his fists firmly to hold in a scream with all his might. He could not see, could ot feel anything but a fire burning within him. It forced its way through every part of his being, ripped him violently apart and left his head blazing like a glowing ball of fire. Black and white dots whirled in front of his tightly closed eyes and took his consciousness for the world with them.

A white light exploded in his mind and his magic grew wild. Grasping desperately at the tiny part that made him Harry, he did not give himself a moment to breath. Instinctively, he built a defense line to secure his core of mind and magic alike. For just a moment Harry could feel its control slipping. He could feel the triumph of Tom over his own tormented soul while Harry desperately fought off the dizziness and the numbness that left him stumbling.

It was not just an attack from the inside where he was most vulnerable. It was as if he was back in Voldemort's torture hall. He felt himself helplessly held to the ground and tumbled under the steadily growing pressure inside of him when Voldemort finally found a way for his magic and reached around the barriers Harry had built. His feeling for time and reality slipped absolutely. Only dimly Harry was aware that he was sagging down with a pitiful whimper, but surprisingly he did not hit the ground as something or someone stopped his fall in the last possible moment.

Tremors of magic run through his body when Harry actively began trying to fight back. He did not bother to acknowledge his help as he was carefully laid down, and once again a hand pressed onto his mouth to muffle the pained screams he was not able to suppress anymore when his muscles cramped.

Tom could not be allowed to get free, whatever the cost. If Harry died, Voldemort would roam the world again and the Wizarding world would be at the same place they had been fifteen years ago. Harry would not simply give in and lie down to make the way free to whatever Tom had planned on doing – once he had Harry trapped in his own body. That would not do.

Completely unaware of his surroundings, Harry gathered methodically what had not been overrun by Tom's attack. He forced all of his emotions back and felt himself growing cold when he frantically wished to barrier Tom's way with any means possible. Tom rummaged through his mind without care and violated memories that had been safe and good ones until now.

Lying low Harry forced his anger down and waited for Tom. The boy knew where he was, but he could not reach him there without calling his own death upon him. This time Tom had not run down his walls at random. He had searched for a point Harry would be helpless to defend.

Ever so slowly and oh so painfully that Harry believed to explode, as he bit his lips to not scream his voice raw, Harry fought a way through his mind. Silently he let Tom ravage while Harry bound his magical core to fix points throughout his whole body. There the energy could gather until he needed to draw on it in an emergency. It seemed an eternity later when a steady buzz of his magic vibrated through Harry. It pointed an inviting but not too obvious way to his inner core, and it was too much a treasure for Tom to let go off the chance that it was the real path to victory.

Harry clenched his jaw and hid his awareness for Tom's mad browsing. Tom did not seem to have a plan for when he actually got a hold of Harry. He just took what he could get now while Harry's shields were seriously weakened. Harry ignored it as he had to. For Tom to go where he wanted him, Harry had to lure him into false security. A problem Tom had had even when he still had been Voldemort in Harry's eyes. To fast after a small victory Tom felt himself invincible. He was too sure of himself to look out for traps.

Harry focused all of his thoughts to gather as much of his magic as he could. The safe places he had built, helped him in this respect. With them Harry would not have to consciously hold most of the power and he would not be in danger to let the trap snap shut in the wrong moment.

Harry felt him gloating and coming near his hiding place. Any minute now. Slowly, but soon enough Tom would be there. Harry could bear the pain a while longer. His body convulsed entirely when Tom reached the point where all of Harry's magical strength found its opening. The whole net of power points Harry had built to help access the continuous flow of magic erupted at once. It broke all of Tom's negligent attempts of ravaging and bonding to a core which was not his own.

A strange violet glow broke its way through his closed eyelids and earned a sharp intake of breath from a fiercely staring man. Harry was completely unaware to this second, as he was busy holding Tom. As fast as anyone could manage, Harry built the walls again with more consistency. He was slow but meticulous to get it done. His mind should be a lot safer when the process was closed.

Harry drew a trembling breath. He had done all right for now. Tom was secured behind more layers of magic, than Harry had ever thought possible he could manage to errect at least halfway consciously. An incessant flow of magic would let him know instantly what Tom was up to, that meant from now on Harry would be aware of Tom's presence all the time, would probably catch some of his stray, crazy thoughts when the time passed by, and his backup magic would secure that anything similar to this attack occurred ever again.

For the future Harry needed to research a feasible way to stay safe without constantly drawing at his powers. It was draining. On the long run Harry would not be able to hold it this way. If just that little bit of anger had opened that wide a way for Tom, Harry would be hard pressed to keep him tied up for more than a few months at the most. Anger and probably any other negative emotion, would make it impossible for him to stay ahead of Tom. Left panting and covered in sweat, Harry drew a few more concentrated breaths. That had been an experience a bit too near to failure for his peace of mind.

How could it be that a wizard's magical core was bound to a person's soul and not to the body? The energy core had to be a part of a man's soul; it was not logically possible. What would happen if somone tried to tear apart a human's soul? Harry shuddered just thinking of it and found himself pressed tightly against something warm and secure. Harry blinked his watering eyes open. Now he remembered where and with whom he had been. Uneasily, Harry looked into the pale face of his least favorite potions teacher directly above of him.

The boy swallowed heavily and practically sprang away from the man, though he tried not to show disgust or anything else. Snape did not seem to look like himself much anymore either. Paler than Harry had ever seen him, his face gaunt and his forehead covered in sweat, Snape crouched next to him, his face carefully blank of emotion and his thin lips pressed tightly together.

Harry blinked surprised when he realized something astonishing he had not thought of before. Now that his own pain had diminished to a tolerable throb, Harry could feel the stinging in his right hip, spreading out through his whole body. It could not have been more than a few moments for Harry lying on the ground, but for Snape to be in that proximity to him, Tom and his mark meant that it must have been painful to him, too. He had surely felt something through the link whilst the fight for control had gone on. For rights way every marked Death Eater should have lain down screaming for the last minutes. That Snape had not done just that must have been pure stubbornness to give in to something as trivial as that. The Dark Mark on Snape's forearm must have hurt like hell. Harry wondered if Snape and the Death Eaters had just gotten a backlash or something much more horrible. Maybe Harry was lucky and some had died from the pain or at least gone mad.

Still in arms' reach of Snape, for the man had not let him go, Harry could feel his pain. If it had been anyone else he would probably have offered to heal some of it to take the edge away. With someone bound to him Harry could have done it through his mark even. But Snape would not allow that any more than Harry wanted the man to find out about his mark. Harry was not able to control the mark just yet anyhow, so both of them would have to bear their stinging nerves for a little while longer. However, Harry felt that his body already began the process of healing. As outworn as his magic's reserves were, there was still enough left to begin the dire process.

Realizing that his hands were still tightly clenched, Harry opened his fists and looked dazedly at the bloody, half moon shaped marks on the palms of his hands the fight for control had left him.

Surprisingly Snape refrained to give one of his dire comments. Harry was thankful for that but still a bit skeptical about hidden motives, nevertheless. Just the creepily piercing look Snape sent his way was enough to make Harry's hair stand on end. Harry refrained himself from rubbing the goosebumps on his arms away.

"What the hell was that, Potter?" came Snape's gruff question. Harry looked down to the muddy ground, which had left its traces on his clothes. He smirked tiredly. Information was the motive. Slimy Slytherin!

"How should I know, Professor?" he said with false innocence, though no doubt it didn't fool anyone and least of all the Potions Master.

"Potter! Stop being childish and answer the question." Snape sounded hoarse. He still found it peculiar to experience the burning in his Dark Mark only a few moments before he literally stumbled over the boy, who had gone down in a heap, gasped for breath and eyes shut tightly against whatever pain he had felt. Sneering, the Potions Master pulled the boy up and threw a quick glance around.

What a crude man. Harry resolutely bit his lip, for such a question did not deserve an answer, well, at least not a completely true one.

"What is it, Potter? Is the fame rising too high in your head?"

"Oh, nothing, professor." Harry stoically played down and kept fatigue to himself. "Voldemort," Harry took notice of the slight narrowing of the exquisite eyebrows, "is just feeling especially vicious right now. I have that once in a while, sir." Harry's calmly mentioned remark, which came around in the same tone an adult explained to a child the same thing a dozen times patiently, was accompanied with a challenging look as Harry said: "But of course you know that already, sir." His voice came out a bit pressed, but at least his teacher would see his effort at staying on his feet, at least in saying, as he was still on the ground. Harry was not the one acting childish. Git.

"I'm okay now," he bit out eventually when he saw no other way. "Let go off me!" as if irresolutely how to proceed.

"So, he is alive then?" Snape asked nonchalantly and ignored Harry's request completely. Harry stopped and stared at the man questioningly.

"Voldemort? Why wouldn't he be?" The boy looked innocently up to the gaunt face, surprise was plain in his voice, as he tried to shake off the hand that still gripped his arm.

"Shut your mouth, Potter." Snape's irritation was palpable. For a moment they stared at each other, neither wanted to be the first one to look away.

"Your friends," Snape spit the words, "are still patrolling through the alleys near the archway, which is our only way to get out of this maze of streets." To that Harry furrowed his brows. Snape was explaining instead of simply ordering! Did the surprises never stop?

"The wizards?" Harry blinked and lost their staring contest. "Where are they?"

"Would you have them rather waiting for you?" the man snapped. Harry glared at the ground. He mumbled something incoherent under his breath, to low for the Potions Master to understand anything worthwhile.

"Professor?" Harry whispered anxiously after a moment and crouched deeper behind the edge. He did not feel nearly as unsure of himself, as he made the bastard believe, but it would play well with his future role as a youth who got, with dark wizards on his tail and the death of the only family he ever had, too much on his head. Harry felt a twinge in his heart, but he shoved it away. Sirius was a matter to remember when he was safely hidden behind the curtains of his four posters in the dormitory.

"What are they?" Uneasily Harry noticed how much awe ringed within his voice. He swallowed silently and threw Snape a fleeting glance. Hopefully the man had not heard his childlike quivering.

"Be quiet, Potter. You don't want to lead them here, do you?" It was obvious how much will the man had to afford to keep back from telling the boy exactly what he thought; but no insult was forthcoming, a task that was in itself a tremendous accomplishment. Most likely though, Snape was just preoccupied with watching and thought Harry the lesser evil. Harry eyed him cautiously.

"I think they're definitely gone, sir." Harry dared to say. As far as he was concerned they could leave their hiding place now. Harry would like to get some books and new robes; and he wanted to get away from Snape.

"You know how to shut your mouth, don't you?" Snape seriously seemed to doubt the boy's abilities in that respect. "Or should I do it for you?" With raised brows the Potions Master watched until Harry nodded and clamped his mouth shut.

"Come, Potter," Snape said. He showed not even a suggestion of fatigue, whereas Harry still did not feel too good and was not able to fight when he was harshly pulled up to his feet. Harry did not even argue Snape's hand on his arm, at least for now, as weak in his knees as he was. For once he followed him without raising objections.

Snape led them through ways Harry would not even have recognized as such. However, later Harry could not recall how long they had been under way, or how often he had stumbled over his feet. When they finally stepped out into the brightly lit and crowded street of Diagon Alley, Harry almost felt like his old self save a ravaging headache and as a consequence thereof a very short temper. He stopped short when he realized that Snape did not seem to leave alone anytime soon.

"Thanks for helping me out there, sir," Harry chose the polite way, "but you know, sir, you can go now," he stated calmly.

"Do you think me stupid or just gullible?" Snape growled when the insolent child just looked him up and down thoughtfully with an uncharacteristically raised eyebrow.

Harry shrugged, but did not elaborate to which part of the question his answer should be taken. Merlin! How he hated that man. How could a person be as antisocial as that and still stay human inside? Snape was a downright unpleasant character to spend his free time with. Hell, even if paid Harry would not do it but tied up and gagged. Harry made a fast decision. Practically he still was in his holiday and as though Snape was an elder, he was not Harry's guardian. He would have to go to the Dursleys or respectively to Dumbledore.

"A good day to you, sir," Harry said self-confidently and left without further ado. Carefully, should that man try to be ahead of him, Harry stepped just far enough to stay out of the Potions Master's reach.

"I wanted to get my books, before I was ... interrupted."

"Potter!" Snape growled menacingly, not bothering to keep his voice quiet. "Stay were you are, or I'll make sure that you won't leave the dungeons for weeks when you're scrubbing cauldrons until your fingers bleed!"

With that picture in mind Harry could not help himself but pull a face. His luck as it was and he would not see the daylight for the rest of the year and his hands would only be stumps when the git was finished with him. Harry could risk it, but Snape was not one to forget. His tendency to hold grudges against people whose parents or grandparents had wronged his pride lifetimes ago was widely known. The boy sighed and turned back to the towering man.

"What can I do for you, Professor?" Harry did not try to hide this exhaustion this time around, much good it would do. Snape did not care either way.

"You're not going to buy your books now, Potter," Snape bit out unpleasantly. "If you had bothered to read your letters, you would know that your head of house is seeing to that."

"Is it acceptable then, to go to... that I get something to eat, sir?" Complying with his teacher's wishes, Harry stayed calm. His OWL results were still packed firmly in his trunk, unopened together with some letters of his friends. Harry sighed when Snape just looked at him coldly. What an arrogant man.

"Where do we go, sir?" he asked after an uncomfortable silence.

"What do you believe?" the Potions Master snapped indignantly. "To Hogwarts, of course."

Harry stopped dead. "But don't I have to take the train?"

Snape grimaced. The boy honestly thought that he would get more liberties than he already had. Wretched child!

"What do you think, Potter." Snape held himself back. When he had to take the train to guard the brats, he wanted to do so in silence, not with Potter clinging at his robe.


	9. Chapter 8 : Somewhat Peculiar

**Title:** Harry Potter and the Summer's Secret

_**Author:** Japhu _

_**Pairing:** HPSS_

_**Rating:** R_

_**Disclaimer:** I own nothing of Harry Potter and his world and don't make any money with it._

_**Summary:** For one week in summer Harry disappears without trace. When he comes back he claims to have no memory. But something happened and it changed him. It remains to be seen if for the better or the worse. (will be HPSS)_

_**Category:** action/adventure/angst_

_**Feedback:** highly appreciated_

* * *

**Chapter 8 - Somewhat Peculiar**

When the boy did not bother to say anything, Snape just stared at him indifferently for a moment, before turning away to watch the small gathering of stupidly crowing children that stood nearest to them in the crowded street they had just entered.

Neither of them wanted to talk to the other, so they hastened down Diagon Alley with strained nerves; Snape took long strides, muttering all the while, and Harry trudged along in thoughtful silence. He heaved a deep sigh when they passed Madam Maulkin's. Harry would have liked to get some new robes to hide his rags. Watching the colorful robes displayed in the shop window, he looked up abruptly when a thought grazed his mind.

Carefully considering, he gazed at Snape. "You still haven't told me the color, sir," Harry inclined in exerting politeness, "of the robes of these wizards. What color do they have, if you're still sure, they're not golden?" A light mocking undertone accompanied his question.

"When you are as blind as a mole you should consider buying new glasses, Potter," Snape suggested coldly. "They were not golden. Not everyone has to display that foolish madness for Gryffindor the way you are." Snape seemed surprisingly… polite, despite that the man looked at Harry's cruddy red jumper in obvious contempt. Harry bit his lips and refrained from answering, for he could not have said anything worthwhile, that did not make the bastard angry. Silently they went on, trying not to acknowledge the other's presence at all, but Harry needed to know.

"Sir?"

"What makes you believe, I will tell you?" Snape's robe billowed when he increased his speed. Harry held all emotion back from his voice.

"Why wouldn't you, sir?"

"Don't you have your nose already in enough things that are of no importance to you?" Snape said, but answered to his own and the boy's surprise, nevertheless. "It's some shade of red. Crimson to be precise." Harry furrowed his brow.

Red was it? Crimson? How was that possible? To him it looked like golden, as if they were bathed in gold unicorn blood. It glittered continuously, as if drops of liquid poured down their robes. It looked breathtaking. What a pity that they had to be the bad guys. What would cause a phenomenon like that? Could it be his magic interfering with his sight? Hopefully not, for his eyes were the only thing Harry could trust to show the truth, until now at least. Maybe it was something these wizards caused themselves. But Snape had not seen the golden robes. Harry bit his lip pensively. Maybe the golden… red robed friends of Tom were his problem, after all, Harry pondered. Just another puzzle unloaded at his feet.

Harry felt a low grumble in his stomach. Now that the excitement was over, the hunger was back with much more forcefulness. Also Harry did not get more awake the more time passed. His exhaustion made itself palpable. The steady buzz of magic, which slammed continuously at his shields, did the rest. Harry felt overloaded with impressions, filled to the brink and over it with magic he seemed to suck up continuously through… whatever; it made him really tired.

Askew Harry glanced across where Snape strode ahead, his whole posture imposing and rigid. The man radiated danger to anyone, who dared to cross his path. What a git. Harry would rather beat himself to a bloody pulp than take a run to keep up with that cauldron crap. Surely the bastard was able to slow down if he wanted Harry to stay with him. Maybe he could just go a little bit slower, looking at the shop windows and stall a bit. He trusted Snape to go on without looking, for surely every student had to be that terrified of him and just run wherever he led. Perhaps he was lucky and Snape would not realize that he had disappeard until he passed the barrier on King's Cross station. It would serve the cranky slob well. Well, time to see how Snape could live with the fact that not everyone was terrified to stop independent thoughts only because he was sticking up his big, ugly nose.

Harry sniggered softly when he followed him down the road. He was careful to stay in darker parts of the street and steadily enlarged the distance between them, until the crowd of people bared the sight to the lean, dark shadow.

Great spying work, Harry thought with a shake of the head. That man had one task only and he lost it, because he was too much occupied with himself. Harry snorted. Who was the one now too busy fancying himself? Getting away was almost too easy. Harry waited a minute further and uninterestedly stared at a window. Harry got out of the flow of people with a wide look around only when his stomach growled again and Snape still did not come to accuse him of being a careless imbecile.

Before he could think of eating anything, Harry needed a quiet corner to enlarge his trunk. Suppressing a yawn, he reached into his pocket and fished for his trunk amidst some oddments he had collected over the summer. It were just some things to remind him of what he had left. A small stone Vernon had thrown at him; a button from Dudley's pants, which Harry had summoned to his hand when Dudley had been talking to his love's new interest. It had been hilarious. There were a few other things, too. All of them held a memory, which had helped to endure his relatives. Grumbling, Harry pulled out all of these things since his trunk had decided to hide itself among them.

Striding confidently towards the targeted corner, Harry looked down on his hand. Safety pin, paperclip, button, stone and a little plastic figurine, a hair net from aunt Petunia and a thorn of a rose's stalk. Harry furrowed his brows. Where was his damned trunk and Hedwig's cage. He would be damned if he had lost it under way. It held his album and his invisibility cloak. With growing irritation Harry searched through the other pockets. He heaved a sigh of relief when he finally found it in the back pocket of his trousers. Holding it securely in his hand, Harry stopped were he was going to look at it…

…and promptly felt himself collide with someone bigger and more steady than he, for Harry found himself on the ground again. He groaned when his bottom hit the stones and silently swore. It would leave a nice bruise to show around, and his trunk was gone. Of course it had to be he, whom everything happened to.

Taking it for granted that Snape had finally noticed his straying, Harry glanced up in expectation to meet angry black eyes and found himself staring wide eyed into worried light blue ones, which held a twinkle similar to the headmaster's, but otherwise seemed cold and distant as if weighing Harry on a scale, which unit of measure Harry could not possibly fathom. The look send a shiver along Harry's spine when he gathered himself up from the ground, searching all the while for his lost trunk and his only possessions. Harry stiffened his weak legs and somehow managed to keep his apologetic smile, while he took a careful step backward.

"I'm really sorry, sir." Harry said in a low, emotionless voice. He tried to suppress all the information his magic gave him, instinctively shutting his magic down to an average level to show as few of his strength as possible.

"Oh no, my boy." the man said with a wide, pleasant grin. "It was completely my fault." His voice was surprisingly gentle and calm, but deeper emotions were rare. "I was busy watching everything. It's amazing here, you know." Despite that the man's whole face lightened up incredibly, his eyes remained measuring, searching.

"Yes, sir." Harry grumbled and attempted to look unsuspicious. Something was not right with that man. He could feel his magic's ringing alarm bell even in that exerted state it was. Caution. It was creepy and Harry thanked his fates that he was only a few steps away from the crowd. Slowly but surely Harry had enough of strange wizards, whose magic was turning somersaults. However, that man's magic appeared subdued, as if he had shut down some levels to appear as normal as one could in that ridiculous outfit of his.

The bright blue robe was covered with stars, moons and odd wavy lines in countless colors. It glittered and glimmered in the sun light like some crazy buzzing insects flying circles; and it looked worse than Dumbledore and Lockhart together. Now the only thing lacking was that the man started throwing curses at him as the red robed ones had done after just a quick glance at him.

Then again, Tom remained astoundingly reticent. Harry listened in to himself, but could not catch anything. Most likely Tom was busy licking his wounds while he wallowed in self pity and furthered revenge at the same time. Harry grinned. Tom would not be able to do anything for a while. His magic must be as low as Harry's – if not more so. Harry felt drained to dust and he became more tired by the minute. It already was exhausting to simply keep his eyes open.

"My boy?" The wizard took Harry at the shoulders and ignored the slight stiffening of muscles and the boy's hard look. "Is everything alright with you?"

"Yes," Harry bit out and took, wide awake from moment to moment, another few steps back. "Thank you, sir." Harry sure as hell planned to get out of here as fast as possible. He should search for his trunk, but he really did not like that man watching him. Harry would come back only when he was sure that this cuckoo going peacock had left for good.

Glancing to the ground to appear searching, Harry steadily got more distance between them. He tried to make his retreat not too obvious. Harry had not had to worry, though. Animatedly talking, the fool of a wizard followed him.

Harry just wanted to turn and run when he felt a weigh pressing down on his shoulder. Fingers dug painfully in his flesh – again, and this time Harry whirled around with a gasp. Merlin! Why was it that everyone thought to have to touch him? It was maddening. Was he sending out some sign of 'Please hug me'? Harry heaved an audible sigh. He was not sure if he should be relieved about some responsible adult presence to keep that crazy one back or if he felt irritated that Snape had found him already and that his stomach would have to wait a very big bit longer before it got fed.

"Potter." Snape's voice sounded awfully restrained.

"Sir." Harry acknowledged with clenched fists, but stayed where he was. Snape did not seem to like the idea of Harry straying again. Had Harry looked behind him, he would have seen that the restrain in the man's voice was reserved for the other wizard, who seemed oddly out of place with the Potions Master's nightblack appearance. The wizard did not seem to be disturbed by the new addition to their group. In fact, his eyes lightened considerably when he heard the name.

"Oh!" he called out ominiously, as if that fact alone explained everything. "Harry Potter." Harry's eyes spit fire, but he refrained from saying anything at all when the wizard looked him up and down imploringly. Harry could almost see Snape rolling his eyes, as he snorted disapprovingly when the wizard stormed forward – overly enthusiastic – to grip both of Harry's hands.

"I so hoped to see you, my boy, before the school starts," the man babbled on and on while Harry pulled his hands back, cringing into Snape, for he was the only one to get that man to calm down.

"Get a grip on yourself, Bradarowicz!" Snape bellowed and shoved Harry behind his back and out of the wizard's reach.

"What?" Harry stuttered wide eyed. "You know each other?"

"Oh, but surely we do," crowed the man energetically at the same time when Snape grumbled something that sounded almost like: "Unfortunately, yes." Harry blinked. Did they know each other from a Death Eater meeting? It would explain his reaction to the man's magic.

"That, Potter," Snape gritted out, seeing the question plainly written in his face, "is your new Defense teacher." It sounded like he had his mouth full of extra sour lemon drops.

"That--." Harry could barely stop himself to say 'thing' and had to clear his throat, unable to do anything but staring openmouthed.

"Oh, yes." Bradarowicz's smile widened considerably and Harry unconsciously grimaced at the display of… utmost stupidity. "I'm really looking forward teaching you." the guy went further as if Harry was the only student he would teach anything.

"By the way, my name is Bradarowicz. Jashonek Bradarowicz." His smile took on something slimy when he bent down conspiratorially. "You of course," the shrill robed wizard offered brightly, "may call me Professor Brado or Nik if you like." Harry did not know it, but the look he threw at Snape was almost a pleading one. It could not possibly get any worse or more ridiculous.

"Teaching defense?" Harry still was in shock. That psychotic peacock actually was their new DADA teacher? Did Dumbledore even look at the people before he hired them for a job? Harry gaped at the crossing of Lockhart and Dumbledore and Umbridge and saw out of the corner of his eye Snape's left eyebrow rising incredulously. Both men looked at him, their expressions blank as if they were not sure to have heard correctly. Harry blinked. Hopefully he had not voiced his thoughts, though, taking the way the adults were looking at him into account, it seemed a possibility. Harry swore and looked down. He was minced when they ever got back to school. He could forget getting good grades in Defense before the year had even started. Harry heaved a sigh when he felt fatigue return with vehemence. Inwardly Harry closed that drawer. This guy could hardly be worse than than that Umbridge cow. Harry squirmed. He still felt… – Brabado's?…Brabidi's? – eyes on him whenever he looked away.

Distrustful as Snape was he too had recognized it, for his arms were crossed in front of his chest and he glared the wizard down as if he was part of some curiosity show. Snape shoved the boy roughly away, positioning himself right between him and the still openly staring man.

"Go on, Potter. We don't have all day to get to King's Cross." Dazed Harry took a few steps before he remembered something important.

"My trunk, sir!" Harry cried out. Snape looked down at him exasperated.

"What now, Potter?" Every word dripped out like venom.

"I lost it when Bronto… he," Harry had lost the crazy name of the crazy babbling man already, "run into me."

"And you can't take it why?"

"It's shrunken." Harry sighed sourly and chose to ignore Snape's expression. The git's cold stare told what he thought about Harry's questionable state of mind.

"And how, Potter, did you accomplish that?" Snape asked in a voice that could cut steel.

"I didn't accomplish anything, Professor." Harry brightly smiled, respect dripping off his words, and thought fast. "I hauled it along until a witch saw me struggling with it. She helped me out." His smile widened. "She was really nice, the witch, she really was." It remained questionable, whether the Potions Master believed him or simply had enough of changing trivialities with Harry Potter. Whatever the reason, Harry was alright with it, and if not for the fact that his new DADA teacher could not take his eyes off him, be it because of awe, admiration, hate or whatever, Harry would have been almost satisfied to quietly go along with Snape.

Yawning, Harry watched Snape summoning his trunk with a simple spell and wanted to hit himself for his idiocy. He could have done that wandlessly and nobody would have been any wiser. Harry chanced a glance toward his DADA teacher. Should that peacock really see magic – Harry believed so – than it was possibly well done to actually forget the summoning charm. He snorted, thinking of something else. With that great an extent of control he had over his magic he would probably have summoned every single lone trunk in Diagon Alley. Harry would be better off living like a Muggle for the time being.

Harry solemnly thought back the short time he had watched the wizard. He was sure that the man had tried to hide his magic's level to appear less dangerous and strange than he really was. It led to number one in Harry's consideration. One must at first count on people able to see magical energy to try hiding it; which led to number two. To hide one's magic one had to be able to recognize magic, that much Harry had already learned from experience, which led to number three. The man had to be, at least, similar to the Red Robes. Perhaps they actually knew each other. But what game was he playing at, staring like a love sick Mad-Eye Moody, smiling like Dumbledore on a lemon high, and talking like that dunce named Lockhart? He totally made a fool of himself and he did not even seem to notice. Could it get any more ridiculous? There was not anything less believable than the story that guy tried to fed them.

Harry pondered, whether Brenderi, Bradawi or whatever his name was, posed to be a dangerous fool or rather a foolish danger. He could not let the man near him. Harry would not risk jeopardizing his plan, even if he seemed to be a bit prejudiced against the DADA teacher. So what if? His past experiences certainly gave reasons to mistrust anyone coming in as strange as that. Harry had thought him peculiar even before he knew him to be the new addition to Hogwarts' staff. He would have to keep both eyes open when the grinning fool was near.

Blinking tiredly, Harry forced his eyes open and followed the Potions Master on the safe side – away from the Branowici guy. He stumbled once and again on wobbly legs and kept no thought for his empty stomach.


	10. Chapter 9 : King's Cross

**Title:** Harry Potter and the Summer's Secret

_**Author:** Japhu _

_**Pairing:** HPSS_

_**Rating:** R_

_**Disclaimer:** I own nothing of Harry Potter and his world and don't make any money with it._

_**Summary:** For one week in summer Harry disappears without trace. When he comes back he claims to have no memory. But something happened and it changed him. It remains to be seen if for the better or the worse. (will be HPSS)_

_**Category:** action/adventure/angst_

_**Feedback:** highly appreciated_

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**Chapter 9 - King's Cross**

Tired as Harry was he watched both men attentively. One animatedly babbled on and on about his home country, eating habits and fondness for colors - as if that was not obvious. He did not seem to have the need to breath, but all the while he threw furtive glances around his obstacle of rigid darkness and stared at Harry. The other one displayed a look of spite and utmost contempt, sneering once and again, but otherwise tried to ignore man and talk likewise. There seemed to be a silent war going on and Harry was very curious to know, who would come out on top.

What was it that got them off on each other? Well, Harry could understand Snape's abhorrence, he really could. One look at that grinning fool and everyone was either completely convinced of his stupidity and simplicity or would not trust a word that man gave off. He was a curiosity like one of Hagrid's favorites. One word at the wrong time or in a dubious manner, and all that subdued magic would cleave itself a way with vehemence. Harry found himself hoping for Snape. At least with the git he knew were he was heading for. Harry listened attentively when Snape called in a new round.

"Shouldn't you be off… guarding the station until the students' arrival?" Snape stressed every single word, interrupting the constant flow of words. It was quite interesting how they eyed each other up without acknowledging the other's presence at all. Had Harry not been on alert by the strange wizard's magical aura, he probably would have found it worth a laugh; but too often Harry found himself not under one scrutinizing glare but two. He had to admit that he felt much more at ease with the one the Potions Master sent his way. The new DADA teacher did not seem to worry either way when he answered brightly.

"Oh yes, but that Auror of yours sent me away." The colorful robed wizard looked unappreciatively at Snape. " He said I should use the time for a quick look around. Moddy or Muddy or something like that his name was, though, if I'm not mistaken, he didn't like me calling him that." Apparently blind to any motives the Auror might have, he just shook his head regretfully. "He appeared quite confident to handle the situation without my help."

What an idiot! In the last moment Harry bit the insides of his cheeks to keep from saying it aloud, though, he could not suppress a roll of his eyes while he tuned down the ludicrous babble. However, it had not gone past Harry that the peacock's eyes were as cool and calm as in the beginning, sizing both of them up.

The Potions Master looked as if questioning his own sanity for not chasing away that walking brainless manikin with a flick of his wand. To Harry it was obvious that they could not stand each other. Snape's disgust at the other man's company appeared only to be growing with time passing. Harry was so lost in his thought that he went further down the street after both men had stopped abruptly. Blinking Harry found himself impatiently called back.

"Potter, take hold of my robe." Snape grudgingly demanded when Harry looked at him, unsure of what he had done wrong now.

"Why should I do that?" Harry was appalled.

"Because I intend to take you with me when I apparate." Snape's explanation was simple, but the tone of voice made it sound like the biggest insult. "If you prefer to apparate with… Professor Bradarowicz, though…!" No further words were needed. Before Snape had finished his pressed out words Harry gripped the Potions Master's robe tightly. He carefully stayed as far away as he possibly could while still touching the stiff cloth.

With a scowl Snape pulled the boy closer to him. It would not do to lose the boy under way. Certain that the gibbering fool would follow on his own, Snape apparated on the spot without further ado, hoping that the idiot of wizard would splinch himself.

When the sensation of being ripped apart and set together again left Harry with a painful twist in his stomach, he staggered away thoroughly pissed at his teacher and looked up to give him a piece of his mind. But Harry swallowed what he had wanted to say, as he was watched through dark gleaming eyes, which held a satisfied twist around the corners. The git looked pleased with himself as if he had wanted to do just that for ever. Bastard.

Heaving a sigh Harry looked around. Suddenly Harry was glad not to have eaten anything. King's Cross station, he had noted with surprise that they had appeared directly in front of the train, was still mostly quiet. Harry did not see anyone of his year, but it still was a good two hours until the train would leave. Most of them would not come until ten minutes early, and Harry wanted to be safe and sound in his compartment when the bustling and rustling began.

"Where's the peacock?" he asked only halfway interested, ignoring Snape's mask like scowl, until he felt himself getting fidgety.

"Well, I can't recall his name." Harry bit out while imagining a rubber duck swaying lazily on a pool to keep his emotions down. It was not the most heroic thing to imagine but it worked quite well.

The Potions Master sneered. "I believe, he gave you permission to call him Nik." Harry and Snape alike grimaced in utmost disgust at that familiarity. Who would have thought that there would be a time when they had actually something in common? Would wonders never cease? Harry just wanted to suggest that they should go on without 'Nik' when he heard a cry as shrill as the robes that emerged moments later.

"My boy!" The wizard seemed out of breath and awfully excited. "I thought I had lost you when I came out at the other side." He made a move as if to pat Harry on the head, but the boy ducked away, gritting his teeth until they hurt. _Think of Tom, Harry._ The boy called himself to endure the presence. _Think of failures and consequences, both things you can't afford anymore._

"Severus, are you all right?" Harry jerked his head around when the wizard's attention turned to the sourly looking Potions Master. By no means did he want to miss Snape's reaction to the peacock's emotion dripping question.

"No," Snape pressed out. "I'm not all right, Bradarowicz." He spit the name like some kind of disease. "But call me 'Severus' only once more and I'll be happier than I ever was. Do you know why?" He stalked over to the man, who had at least enough sense to look slightly uncomfortable when he shook his head negating. "We will have a new position free on staff to occupy, because you will be dead."

Harry grinned. Snape seemed to get a real kick out of this when he told 'Nicky' in detail what he was going to do to him, before he had to bite the dust. Slowly but surely even the dumbest wizard had to discern that he had dug his own grave, for the fool grin lost itself in an otherwise nice looking face and the hard look in his lightened eyes became more pronounced. Whenever the new Defense teacher took a few steps backwards cautiously, Snape took a long stride forward. It was a game and Harry loved it. He would not have interrupted when they had decided to draw their tightly gripped wands or to get into the old way of Muggle fighting, because it meant that their attention was not on him and that was worth any blood flowing - for it would not be his own but from the two persons he hated most.

People kept as much space as possible between themselves and the short of physically fighting men. Harry stood in between, watching, listening to all the insults streaming off Snape like water. The man did not even need to think. He just threw forward everything that came to mind. Well, Harry tilted his head, Snape must have gotten something out of his teaching job at Hogwarts. Harry memorized as much as he could to bequest Malfoy with some of the most creative insults at the first opportunity.

Harry could not have said how long it went on, back and forth. Though, the new teacher's defense was often not more than a stupid looking opening of his mouth. It appeared like a stranded goldfish in the fangs of a cat. It was great. Of course, Harry would normally not relish in other people's misery, at least, not when Snape was the one responsible, but this was simply hilarious; and that coot's 'my boy' sounded to Harry like fingernails on a blackboard. He could not stand it… or that man.

It was a boy with very short, spiked hair, shimmering in orange and pink vertical stripes, who stopped the verbal assault between the opponents. Harry grimaced. The sight that boy provided was hurting everyone's eyes, unless one was blind already. It was the most ludicrous attire Harry had had the misfortune to have seen until now… safe one person. He really did not want to further that thought. The boy's robes were checkered in lilac and an ugly brown with really big, large petalled flowers in lemon green and yellow. The cutting was strange, too. Harry had not seen robes like that anywhere. The baby blue boots lurking under it had pink and orange stars and moons imprinted on them. At least, Harry thought, they went with his hair.

The boy ran tempestuously up to them, positioning himself between the only person who was not a pain for the eyes and… Harry sighed. The relation was there. He just hoped that boy was not as crazy as the Defense teaching peacock and his robes seemed to indicate. The boy looked as if someone had poured out some buckets with paint all over him. Harry squeezed his eyes shut, hesitant to open them again.

Only when loud cooing noises came through to his ears Harry's curiosity won over. He looked wondering to see his future teacher behaving like some sitting hen, alternating pinching the colorful boy into the cheeks and hugging him. Whether braveness, inherited stupidity or just a sense of holding your family members alive; the boy had managed what other people had avoided out of self protection and Harry wouldn't have done when his life was at stake.

Snape's imposing features seemed more frozen then before. He did not react at all when both tried to talk to him; he just stuck up his nose and feigned that they were not there. Sadly that made them turn to the only other person available. Harry took a step backwards and cursed himself. Why could he not have gotten in already? The train was standing there since their arrival. Harry bristled and held out when the wizard led the boy to him, heaved a sigh and thought that time went by eventually. He would not need to abide their craziness for much longer.

"That's Junas. My son." The grinning fool introduced the boy with a wide grin.

"I thought so." Harry mumbled and pulled a face. Could fate not show indulgence once? The boy just had to be related to that 'Nicky' guy. It would be a name to hate, Harry decided. Should he have children at any time that name was out of the run for sure and all eternity. Though, one should not hold a child responsible for its father's faults. Then Harry smiled his bright Gryffindor-smile. He greeted the boy with polite reserve and an appended "Hello.", which did not give them much to work out Harry's current mood.

The man thrust the boy forward, who looked not much younger than Harry right next to him. He grinned shyly at Harry, giving instinctively a wide berth to the Potions Master's dark and sneering posture. Clever boy, hopefully more so than his father. However, Harry hesitated to believe anything that boy said. A few moments before there had not been any shyness or insecurity or anything similar to that when stepping between two grown wizards. Was he the next one into the charade? As father and son were together it went without a doubt. Harry sighed. His glass called endurance was filled to the brink. Sometime soon he would explode to the unlucky guy, who tipped him off one time too often. Harry furrowed his brow when a hand ruffled his hair. He pulled back abruptly, so that said hand patted the air for a moment before dropping disappointedly.

"And this, Junas, son," and all Harry thought missing was the drum roll, "is Harry Potter." The boy stared just the same way his father had done when he had heard Harry's name for the first time. His look at least was not that creepy, maybe due to the missing twinkle in the brown eyes, specked with yellow and green dots.

"He is in his sixth year at Hogwarts." Bradarowicz looked at his son with a look of reproach, and the boy's eyes widened surprised.

"You are a sixth year?" He doubtfully turned toward him. "I thought you'd be in fifth year, like I."

"Well," Harry glowered, for enough was enough, "I was a fifth year, last year. So I'm very sorry to disappoint you." His voice dripped sarcasm. "Junas, was it?" The boy was as fishy as his father. It did not bode well for Harry. For the feeling to being encircled grew exponentially. Now, Harry assumed, he had a watcher among the students, too. It remained just the question, for whom they were watching. Harry just hoped that the boy would not get sorted into Gryffindor, but as he knew his luck it could not be anything else.

"Now, my boy, it's not nice to say such things." Obviously the peacock had something like family sense in that pea brain of his. Harry clenched his fists behind his back. He did not like the undeviating flow of 'my boy'. He was no one's 'my boy' and certainly not that fool's one. That coot had his own 'boy' he could rightfully call that. Harry balled his fists. Sometime very soon he would tell that man what exactly he thought of his cuddling and coddling… and my-boying.

"Me?" Harry stayed polite for now. "I just expressed my regret that we can't possibly be in the same class, Professor Bradabisi." Harry had opted to say a respectful 'sir', but that guy simple did not deserve anyone's respect. Now he ignored the wounded look sent his way. Narrowed eyes watched Harry intently and just when the wizard opened his mouth to further an argument Harry would be hard pressed to simply swallow, Snape decided to make himself useful and intervened.

"Enough of that already, Bradarowicz." He send a look of disgust to the gaudy boy and went on: "Get your clown of a son onto the train and take your post at the entrance to the station. That is, if you can find it before the train starts to Hogwarts." For a moment the blue eyed man seemed indecisive, but Snape's dark look seemed to turn him into the right direction, for he took his son by the shoulders and nodded, a new grin placating on his face.

"You are of course right, Seve- dear colleague." He turned around to Harry while his robes simmered and rustled nervewreakingly, and Harry was busy staring at Snape's pale features. The sneer that had lain itself over the expressionless face was worth remembering. If that idiot of Defense teacher had not had the gall to turn his back to the Potions Master, he would have realized that 'dear colleague' was not much better than to call the imposing man by his given name. Never Harry had seen so much loathing directed at anyone, not even at himself. He did not know what was going around in that greasy head, but maybe Harry would have a bit of luck this year and the more vicious insults would shift to the fifth year Potions class and the head table. It would safe a lot of time on Harry's side when the attention did not concentrate on him for once. Without comment Harry endured the 'my boy' a last time and watched father and son headed toward the Hogwarts' Express, bending their heads together and gesticulating animatedly to emphasize one point or another.

"He's a peacock with a twist." Harry said out of the blue and found himself under a scrutinizing glare again. To his surprise, though, Snape did not say anything to his uncalled comment about a fellow professor. When Snape was grounding him in class again, Harry would be there to remind him that he had somehow managed to say something without getting back twice as much as Snape usually gave out. By then the Potions Master had hopefully forgotten the scheduled talk had they arrived at Hogwarts. Harry surely did not look forward to it.

Potions Master and student stayed silent until the glaring robes completely disappeared from sight. Both of them were left slightly dazed with the realization that they were completely mutual in their understanding that they could not stand the other's presence at all, but that they hated the mere existence of that family of peacocks even more. It was a first time that they saw eye to eye. Harry would have thought about this astounding fact a little bit longer had he not seen a mop of dazzling red hair next to a girl, who had her arms full of books and was just unloading most of them onto her run down looking friend.

Harry took just one step into their direction before he stopped suddenly as if hit by a wall, because for the first time he could actually see the magic his friends possessed and it was astonishing, for he would never have thought of them this way before.


	11. Chapter 10 : Questions Asked

**Title:** Harry Potter and the Summer's Secret

_**Author:** Japhu _

_**Pairing:** HPSS_

_**Rating:** R_

_**Disclaimer:** I own nothing of Harry Potter and his world and don't make any money with it._

_**Summary:** For one week in summer Harry disappears without trace. When he comes back he claims to have no memory. But something happened and it changed him. It remains to be seen if for the better or the worse. (will be HPSS)_

_**Category:** action/adventure/angst_

_**Feedback:** highly appreciated_

**

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**

**Chapter 10 - Questions Asked**

Harry closed his eyes. He did not want to think about magic; he did not want to see it surging and reaching towards him. The more people stepped through the barrier the more he had to fight the magic buzzing through him, and every minute it got harder. He stood dazed, trying almost in vain to control the overflow, when he heard a heartfelt cry coming from the direction of the entrance.

"Harry!" Before Harry knew what happened, he had an arm full of Hermione all around him. It was an instant his body grew rigid. He returned her hug hesitatingly, brainwashed under a rapid gunfire of questions. It seemed they had finally seen him.

"Harry, what happened?"

"What do you mean?" Harry asked back, a look of confusion on his face. They could not already know about his run-in with Snape and the Red Robes, could they? The Potions Master had not seemed too fond of their meeting. He would not go around and tell how he had saved the Boy-Who-Lived's life once again.

"Are you alright? We were worried sick! Why didn't you write?" Harry's heart quieted down. She was speaking about his summer. It took the load off his mind. He did not want to tell anyone of the Red Robes – Snape knowing was bad enough.

Harry would have said something, if it were not for his lack of breath due to Hermione's overwhelming clutch; and from near vicinity her magical aura seemed all the more breathtaking and taxing. The color was – well, Harry could not say. He could not possibly pinpoint one color; for one he tried not to look, and for the other Hermione was surrounded by a rainbow of bright, lazily swirling magic. Her strength appeared to be quite a bit above average – no surprise there – but it was a lot more than Harry would have thought. She did not really need the library visits at all.

Harry had to force himself not to stare at her. He had never seen anyone with so much colors – not that he had seen much at all. He wondered what it meant but found himself getting restless in her embrace. At least he had not flinched back when she had descended on him. Harry sighed. Apparently she did not plan to let him go anytime soon, so he patted her comfortingly on her still frizzy haired head and waited for her to come to her senses and back down from her emotional high. He really did not know how to handle people as open as she was in distress. Harry had to grow accustomed to displays of emotions again at first.

Harry felt himself growing restless amidst so much magic. Short of patience he could also feel Hermione's magic reaching out to him; and it gave him goose bumps. Hermione did not know she did it. Everyone he had met until now did things like these unconsciously as far as Harry had observed – except the strange wizards of course. His lips pressed together, Harry tensed his muscles to gently push her back when his rescue came.

"Let him go, Hermione!" Harry turned his head to see Ron coming forward with a big happy grin on his freckled face, shifting the piles of books to get a better hold of them. Ron had had his growth spurt this summer and towered nearly a head taller next to him. Relieved to have gotten help, Harry took a step back and breathed deeply.

"Thanks, Ron. I thought I'd die for lack of oxygen." Harry said lightly and tried not to look too closely at his friend, whose energy blended him in a brilliant blue light with a bit of white flickering at the edges. Harry did not know much about the meaning of the different colors of magical auras, which represented to some degree the inner strength of a wizard's energy core. He certainly knew though – with help of some of Tom's background knowledge – that it was significant in some ways. Any shade of blue indicated exceptional strength and power; the white color left Harry clueless. It had taken Harry by surprise when he had first seen Ron; and it still gave him shudders, because Ron was totally oblivious to what he should be able to do – or be. Ron should not have so many problems in doing simple spells like they were taught in school. Hell, he should not have problems in school at all.

"Yeah mate, I thought so, too." Totally blind to his friend's apprehension, Ron grinned widely. Both of them ignored Hermione's expression of hurt dignity.

"But she's right, you know." Ron looked his best friend up and down solemnly, as if to prove to himself that Harry really was all right. Then Harry found himself in a bone crushing hug again, unable to breath and open mouthed; the books simply shoved back into Hermione's arms. Harry closed his eyes tightly and suppressed his magic as much as he could, because Ron's played wild.

"It's good to have you back, mate," his friend said in a deeper voice than Harry was accustomed to. "Mom's gone crazy with worry." Harry swallowed. He was glad his hands were still hidden in his pockets, for they were balled to white knuckled fists. He really had some difficulties bearing things like too much magic – and hugs, even from his best friends. Harry furrowed his brows. He would figure out their energy levels later, but for now he had to be the Gryffindor they remembered. When Ron let go of him a moment later, taking back the books with an apologetic expression, Harry sized them up skeptically.

"What is it with you two?" Harry asked, as he watched them questioningly. "It's not that bad at the Dursleys." Ron seemed to want to say something, but Hermione shook her head, took Harry's wrist with surprising strength and pulled the reluctant boy behind her with a deep frown.

"We have to do some serious talking, Harry Potter," she admonished and tightened her grip, as if afraid he would disappear on her.

"But Hermione—" Harry tried to throw in a few words of confusion.

"Not here. Wait until we're alone!" Her tone was clip and reminded remotely of their head of house, and Harry's head jerked around. He suddenly remembered the other teacher still lurking around. It was astonishing that both his friends had acted so open, but of course – Harry snorted. Snape was literally lurking. The Potions Master had positioned himself in a shadowed niche. His friends had not seen him. It figured. Snape did those things probably on instinct, observing everything, Harry could tell. His eyes gleamed. Well, Hermione's emphatic demeanor obviously had put Snape to flight. Harry would be sure to remind the bastard in school of this small fact when he was going on about his father. After all, Harry could not just take an insult as the good, little Gryffindor he was.

"Professor Snape? May I go, sir?" Harry asked politely and startled his friends when he turned his attention to the shadows. The redhead let out a yelp when Snape stepped out of his hideout with an ugly sneer in place.

"I'm sure I'm quite safe now, as…" Harry grimaced, "the new DADA teacher is guarding the station." He would tell Ron and Hermione later what ordeal they would possibly have to go through in future DADA lessons.

When Snape started lecturing Harry tuned him out. He simply let it roll by and did not hear one word the Potions Master had to say. He looked up at scowling man with glinting eyes. He knew that he egged him on even more – and enjoyed it immensely, as he was sure that if he had not said anything he would surely have gotten a lesson about appropriate behavior to one's elders. This way Harry got to listen to Snape ranting about why he should care where Harry went, and if he thought himself special to think everything had to involve him in one way or another. What did he wonder? Whatever Harry did, it could not possibly be right and would not get anything but scorn from the Potions Master. Hell if he cared. Without another word Harry turned his back to the man, dismissing him from his mind with a lingering look, which clearly indicated how much Harry gave on the man's opinion – and Snape was still ranting. Minutes later Harry could still feel the incredulous and angry eyes boring into his back.

"Did you see his look, when you just turned on him?" His friend clearly approved Harry's less than polite behavior, and it took a while for Ron to calm down. They were already halfway to the train before Ron was able to speak a whole sentence without laughing.

"Why was Snape with you?" His look had changed to disgust.

"Well," Harry grinned innocently and shrugged, "I stumbled over him or he over me, as you'd like."

"Snape? And he didn't skin you?"

"Skin me?" Harry raised a brow.

"You're such a child, Ron!" Hermione threw in. "Did you get your books?" She led their talk away from their antics to the more important facts.

"You were shopping with him?" Ron made a gagging noise. He appeared personally affronted, but Harry chose to ignore him – as hard as it was with his magic bouncing around – knowing his temper and his quickness to judge.

"Actually, no," he said calmly, "McGonagall has them already. We just walked around a while till it was time to come here."

"Walked around!" Ron scoffed and shifted the books to get a hand free to fish a Bertie Bot's out of his trouser pocket and pop it into his mouth. "How was he 'walking around'?"

"Well." Harry took the question serious. "He was… bearable, I guess. For Snape, at least." He looked thoughtful for a moment.

"Actually he didn't say anything about my father or… Sirius," Harry inwardly sighed in relief for not having stuttered at the name, just a slight hesitation, "just mentioned once in a while what an idiot I am. So he was, on Snape-scale, really nice." Harry grinned and winked at his friend when Hermione disapprovingly looked at him.

"What's greasy git doing here at all? Can't he wait till Potions to take points or what?"

"Oh, Ron, it's obvious." Hermione shook her head. "He's to guard the train in case You-Know-Who decides to attack."

"Ah." Ron paled and stopped munching for a moment. "But he's a Death Eater."

"No, Ron, but that's probably the reason, why he's not the only teacher patrolling the train."

"Yeah? How's that?"

"Because if You-Know-Who would summon him and required him to attack, Snape could always say he had to stay in his role."

"That's not a good enough one, Hermione. Voldemort wouldn't care whether Snape was found out or not if it got me to his hands."

"Well, there's that. But they do have some reason."

"Possibly."

"Yes, and now that this is settled and out of the way I have some other questions, Harry." Hermione urged, her expression closed.

"I will gladly help you, if I can." Harry looked at her, standing straight to give himself an official look – and tensed when Hermione took hold of his wrist again. Harry sighed and looked back to Ron to see his friend rolling his eyes at her. They followed her without further ado. Hermione in boss mode was not easy to bear. It was better to let her rant, so that she could get whatever it was out of her system. Then they could talk with her like normal people.

Hermione pulled him through the whole train until they reached their compartment at the end, and Harry let her sit him down opposite her. He watched Ron closing the door, aware of Hermione's never wandering intense eyes on his face. Harry felt uncomfortable under her scrutiny, but smiled innocently frowning nevertheless until Ron had made himself at home.

"So?" Harry looked from one to the other, as if he did not know what they were getting upset about.

"Harry…!" Now that she had her friend where she had wanted him in the first place, she did not seem too sure anymore how to approach the subject, or if to proceed at all. Harry followed her glance to Ron, who shrugged but remained silent, still munching absently on one or two heavily crushed and halfway melted Bertie Bot's.

"Harry," she started anew, "where were you gone to? Nobody could find you."

"I don't know what you mean?" Harry looked troubled. He glanced up at the concerned faces of his friends. He did not feel good lying to them, but it could not be helped.

"I was at the Dursleys'. I wrote to you that Dumbledore didn't want me to stay with Ron." He turned to his friend and Ron grimaced, but nodded confirming.

"Yeah, you did. Two weeks before your birthday." His blue eyes narrowed. "It was the last anyone heard of you."

"The day before your birthday Lupin went to fetch you for your surprise party." Hermione said softly, her eyes slightly glazed.

"You weren't there, Harry." she whispered, tears in her eyes, and Harry just stared at her. He did not like people crying.

"Of course I was there." he said defensively and looked stunned after a moment. "Wasn't I?" Harry frowned at his friends.

"You are joking, right?" Harry's back straightened, when both of his friends shook their heads.

"No, Harry. Sorry. That's not a joke. We wouldn't jest about something like that."

"No," Hermione explained, her voice low, as if she tried talking to a dangerous but not very bright animal. "Professor Dumbledore questioned your uncle and aunt." Harry's frown deepened.

"And?" He changed position nervously, when Ron and Hermione exchanged a knowing glance. "Did he use a truth serum?" Now he was genuinely interested for the first time.

"Yes." Hermione nodded vigorously. "Of course."

"Which was it? A potion or a spell? Veritaserum?"

"No, not Veritaserum. It was a spell, I think. I heard Lupin mention it to Mr. Weasley." Her forehead wrinkled in thought. "Nonerra Obcuro."

"What's Nonra Abcuro?" Ron asked, munching happily on a chocolate frog, he had pulled out of his jacket with a dozen others few minutes ago, all the while looking like a three year old after a visit from Santa Claus. Wrinkling his nose, Harry looked away. Despite his hunger he was not able to eat anything. The Apparating with Snape and the magic made him feel dizzy, and Harry did not want to vomit to his friends' feet.

"Nonerra Obcuro." Hermione corrected, stretching every syllable.

"It makes you tell the truth and takes down your inhibition to talk freely. One only has to ask a few questions and you'll spill everything remotely connected with it. You'd tell your deepest secrets." She shrugged. "Of course it will have to be the right questions." She looked thoughtful, probably scanning down pages of books in her mind. "It works quite similar to the Obiscere potion. The only drawback to the spell is the short time it is effective. Every person reacts differently. You have to look closely or you ask questions to someone who isn't under the spell anymore."

Harry knew potion and spell quite well. Tom had a vast knowledge about many things; pity Harry had already buried most of them deep in his subconsciousness. None could take this much foreign thought into the mind without cracking at one point. Harry would need time to work through everything, though, once and again something would emerge on its own when he needed it. He blinked, called to attention.

"Then why didn't they use Veritaserum?" Ron frowned at Harry, who merely shrugged his shoulders as if completely clueless. It would not do any good to know things he had not had any clue about just a few weeks ago.

"It's forbidden." Hermione lectured. "Its use is only allowed when you have evidence for crime. And I mean real evidence." Harry snorted.

"That would hardly bother Dumbledore. He never cared for ministry laws before." Hermione just looked at him and otherwise ignored Harry's impetuous remark completely.

"The Dursleys said you disappeared a week ago. Nobody knew where you had gone to. Apparently your uncle's words were 'Good riddance' or some such nonsense. Lupin was furious. They were searching. And then they thought…, well, they thought Who-Know-Who had found a way to get you – that he had kidnapped you – but Snape couldn't say; he didn't know anything."

"Voldemort?" Harry scrutinized his shoes and did not see his friends flinch.

"Where were you, Harry?" Hermione's voice had taken a desperate edge, tears swam in her eyes.

"I… I don't know." Clearly confused, Harry seemed to shrink in his seat. "I thought… I thought I was at the Dursleys'." Harry glanced at Ron, who looked lost and as confused as he was.

"I can't remember not being there… or… or being with Voldemort." Hermione leapt forward and clasped her arms around him. Tears were now streaming freely down her face and onto his clothes. Not knowing what else to do, Harry simply held her and awkwardly stroked her head.

"Yeah." Ron cleared his throat, his eyes on Hermione. "If… if You-Know-Who had gotten Harry, he wouldn't be here now, would he?"

"Thanks, mate." Harry said dryly and Ron raised his eyes to his and grimaced when Hermione only sobbed louder.

"I mean, there was nearly no activity," Ron was fast to explain, "no Muggle raids, no Dark Marks. They have taken a curiously low profile. Nobody knows where Voldemort is." Ron rambled rapidly. "That's what I wanted to say."

"Have they?" Harry, cut off from the Wizarding world for the whole summer, took the news with curious interest, hugging his now quietly crying friend without thought for her predicament.

"Yeah," nodded Ron. "They thought, that – perhaps – they were hiding with you," the red haired boy swallowed, "torturing you, you know. Everyone was searching, but nobody could find you – and then, suddenly, you were back."

"We… we wanted to… to get you." Hiccuping, Hermione emerged from Harry's robes, red eyed and clearly embaressed of her outburst. "But… Dumb-Dumb… the headmaster said not to. That you were… were s-s-saaaafe!" She wailed the last word as if he was dead, not sitting right next to her. The boys flinched.

"Hermione!" Harry couldn't fathom, what was the matter with her. She had never been a screamer. "Why are you crying? I am safe at the Dursleys, because of the blood protection. You know that."

"B-but you… w-were g-gone." Her body shook with dry sobs.

"Look Hermione. I'm fine, really. Nothing happened." He looked at Ron, but it seemed as if his friend just wanted to change place with Hermione. Harry hoped to hell that Ron would refrain himself from crying – long enough for him to get away, at least. With a sigh Harry leaned back. He hoped their train ride would start rather soon than late.

"I'm still not sure, what I should believe." Harry said. "I mean, if you are all right in your assumption and Voldemort really did kidnap me… Why did he let me go?" He shook his head. "I don't believe this. Maybe they just didn't see me. I spend a lot of time in… in the cupboard."

"What?" Ron bellowed and Hermione sat straight, her eyes nearly glowing – tears forgotten.

"Well, they weren't to fond of Moody's threats, you know." Harry seemed embarrassed.

"What?" Ron bellowed again, and Harry winced when his eardrums vibrated painfully.

"Please, Ron." He held his ears with both hands. "You don't have to shout."

"They locked you in a cupboard?" Ron was still shouting. "How could they do that? I'll hex them, I swear, Harry!"

"You have to tell Dumbledore, Harry." Hermione interrupted quietly with a sad undertone. Harry grunted, his eyes hard and cold.

"No, Hermione. I don't think so, and I don't want you or Ron to tell him – or anyone else – either." For a moment they just looked at him and Harry thought he had to take care of them in other ways, but then they nodded – not happily, but nevertheless approvingly. The mood was depressed after that and their silence not a comforting one.

Harry sighed and took hold of his trunk. He had to do his homework before tomorrow's first lesson. He still had to memorize five pages of potions and to write an essay in Herbology. It had not been easy with Tom in his head and Harry had had too much fun – for once – t o pass the summer's time with boring school work.

Yawning, Harry hooked Hermione with a well aimed remark about some dreadful weeding and fence painting and locked up trunks together with books and homework assignments. This would easily distract Hermione from the Dursleys and Harry's less than average summer.

Ron grinned with a knowing look to Hermione and bit off the head of another frog.


	12. Chapter 11 : Yearly Ritual

**Title:** Harry Potter and the Summer's Secret

_**Author:** Japhu_

_**Pairing:** HPSS_

_**Rating:** R_

_**Disclaimer:** I own nothing of Harry Potter and his world and don't make any money with it._

_**Summary:** For one week in summer Harry disappears without trace. When he comes back he claims to have no memory. But something happened and it changed him. It remains to be seen if for the better or the worse. (will be HPSS)_

_**Category:** action/adventure/angst_

_**Feedback:** highly appreciated_

**

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**Chapter 11 - Yearly Ritual**

For the next hour Hermione and Harry sat together, noses in the books. Only now and then they were interrupted from Ron's excited cries when the Chudley Cannons in his new Quidditch magazine made another extraordinary move to get quaffle or snitch. Harry worked meticulously to get everything done. He did not really have any problems with the homework – the amount of his knowledge sometimes surprised Harry himself. Once and again prying his repeatedly dropping eyes open, he took extra care to turn around some facts and to leave out some others he knew had been mentioned in the book, which he had borrowed from his always prepared friend. Hermione would look through his work later, after all. She should find, at least, some fault with his homework.

Yawning, Harry leaned back and rested his eyes for just a moment. The swirls of magic whirled in front of his closed eyes and he watched transfixed until he opened them with a sigh. He had already enough of Herbology. It was not his favourite subject and would never be, and if he had to read one more sentence about the proper way of potting magical plants in comparison to Muggle ones, Harry would drop dead of boredom just to get away from it. Harry looked around. His friends' magic was continuously drawing his attention. He wondered what his own magic would look like. For reasons Harry did not know, he was not able to even glimpse his own core energy, though, it would have been very interesting to know, particularly after the change he had gone through.

Half an hour was gone with waiting and working. Harry heaved another sigh and glanced out of the window when he noticed movement coming around. Slowly but steadily King's Cross station filled with people. Parents took their children to the train, the younger ones hugging their parents for dear life, while others finally began to board. Everyone was chattering with their friends to catch up on the summer. With pursed lips Harry twirled the quill in his hand and glimpsed thoughtfully back to his essay. He had not consciously designed how to play out his plan. Mostly he would just go from moment to moment and see what cards his fate held ready for him. With new determination Harry closed the books and put his essay onto the next seat with a lot less care than Hermione would think proper.

"I'm done," he announced and drew both his friends' looks to him. Hermione seemed doubtful, but her gaze changed fast to one of worry.

"Are you alright, Harry? You look tired."

"I am." Harry smiled reassuringly. "Vernon just brought me here really early. I didn't get much sleep last night." He could not suppress a yawn and stretched languidly. His exhaustion was just the effect from handling too much magic at once. Harry had a real problem adapting to his surroundings, and to watch and feel the swirling flows of high level magical energy all around him did not really help the matter. Fortunately he had dealt with Tom already, for Harry would be unable to do anything to help himself as weak as felt now. He doubted his ability to do even a simple first year spell – with the right amount of power, at least. Ron slid across to him, a look of secrecy on his face.

"How did you find my birthday present?" he asked interested and full of expectation. For a moment Harry sat dazed. He had not even thought about presents. Had he gotten some at all? Harry could not remember. At that time he had been busy fighting off Tom and achieving some balance with his own, bouncing magic. The change had been painful. Harry shook his head at Ron's imploring gaze.

"Well, I got your letters – most of them, I think." he said to both of them, as Hermione watched him intently, too. The letters Harry had gotten from his friends were not something to occupy himself with for more then a few minutes. They were well meant but held little to no information. Harry had not bothered to write back often. They did not expect him to, anyway. Harry shrugged indifferently and elaborated.

"I didn't get any presents, though. Lupin and Moody were there that morning. They didn't say anything about me disappearing, but they wished me well." Harry shook his head to clear his thoughts. "Mostly they just asked stupid questions."

"Probably they just were trying to confirm where you had vanished to." Hermione frowned worriedly.

"Then why didn't they ask me that when I was… back at the Dursleys' again?" Harry let his confusion and anger at both men show through – the latter, at least, was real. "They just went on and on about nothing, and when I asked why they'd come they were just full of nonsense."

Harry had well thought whether – and what – he should tell his friends of the men's visit. As everyone – Dumbledore at first – would expect Harry to let his friends in on the happenings, they would only grow suspicious early when it seemed as if Harry held secrets even from them. Dumbledore would certainly interview them at one point and take a look into their minds. It was better Harry told them the same story they would hear from Dumbledore beforehand. Harry sighed. He did not want to deal with Dumbledore too early. He was not wholy comfortable around that man; in truth, he annoyed him like no one else except Tom… and maybe Snape,… Malfoy senior and son,… and the Dursleys…

"Well, back to topic." He changed the subject with a shake of his head and frowned at Hermione's thoughtful look. "Lupin and Moody didn't say anything about me having presents. I suppose the packets simply got lost on the way. Thank you, though, for thinking of it." He threw Ron a look of interest.

"Shit." The redhead looked exceptionally crumpled. "Do you think it will turn up sometime?"

"Don't know. What was it?" Harry asked grinning.

"I'm not telling you." Ron shook his head vehemently. "Maybe I get you a new one. It was really great, though."

"Well." Harry seemed unsure how to response. "I thank you then, but you don't have to get me anything else. Just tell me what it would have been."

"No, I don't think so." Ron scratched his chin thoughtfully. "I want you to have it." He blinked across to Hermione, who smiled secretively back at him.

"Now I'm really curious." Harry went further in his investigation. He might not give much about presents, but it was nice to have friends, who gave him some, nevertheless – Harry always had problems how to react when the scarce case came true. He stopped abruptly and looked at the scenery that floated past the window. Heaving a deep breath, he called his friends' attention to the station, which was rapidly falling behind.

"We're moving." Harry smiled imperceptibly. Finally! Warmth spread through his body, and for just a moment the joy of anticipation made him forget everything else that pressed him down.

"It's about time," Ron said passionately. "I thought they'd keep the train there for ever." Harry raised his brows.

"You were just a wee bit early to board the Express." His brows furrowed. "By the way, I didn't see your family."

"I and Hermione had agreed to meet early, lest we might miss you." Ron grimaced. "Ginny wanted to say goodbye to her friend and the others weren't ready by then, though, mom was really crazy to see you safe and sound. She said to write as soon as we arrive at Hogwarts." Harry grinned. At least some people cared whether he lived. His eyes widened when everything Ron had said had met his awareness.

"Ginny has a friend?" Maybe the last furtive glances he had received last year would stop now, too.

"He's a Muggle." Ron announced with a stupid grin. "Dad's really enthusiastic about him; and the twins are even more excited, because now they have a new test victim – and he can't do anything." Ron was in awe.

"I like him, but Mom's a bit reserved. I don't think it's because Tore is Muggle, though. It's just that it's her Ginny, you know? The only daughter and her baby and all that emotional stuff." Uncaring he popped a new frog in his mouth.

"Tore?" Harry questioned. Another guy with a strange name coming from nowhere. He could feel a tighter knot forming in his stomach.

"Yeah. Tore van something. I don't know. They are from Sweden or so." He shrugged.

"How did Ginny got to know a Muggle?" Hermione looked questioningly up from her book.

"His little sister's a witch, and Dad went to introduce them to the Wizarding world. She's going to come to Hogwarts as a first year, and Ginny is mad with that guy." Ron's eyes gleamed. "We went with them to Diagon Alley and they brought a whole lot of sweets."

"Ah, that's were you got the frogs?" Harry thought aloud. "I was wondering."

"Oh, sorry." Ron swallowed. "Do you want some?" He opened a new box.

before he shook his head.

"No, Ron, thanks." Harry gave the half melted chocolate a doubtful glance. "I'll wait for the trolley."

Ron shrugged his shoulders. "Hermione?" He held the whole bag of sweets right under her nose, but the girl just looked imploringly at the bag, then at Ron's chocolate covered hands and pulled a face.

"Thanks, but I decline." She pushed the bag away. "You shouldn't stuff yourself with so much unhealthy food, anyway. The feast isn't that far away." Ron just rolled his eyes and took the bag safely back and out of her reach before Hermione could get the idea to confiscate it.

"Well. His mother gave them to me this morning. She said I should have an eye on her little darling while she's at Hogwarts." Ron pulled a face.

"See that you do it." Hermione snapped her book shut.

"Of course," Ron was fast to agree, "but I don't think she's going to be in Gryffindor."

"That has nothing to do with your promise. You can look out for her, nevertheless. After all, you took the sweets, didn't you?" Hermione's eyes narrowed. Ron coughed with trepidation. Harry was amused. It was nice to see people with simple problems.

"Well—" Harry began, but was diverted from his thoughts the instant he felt a presence nearing their compartment – and stopping in front of the door. Harry did not know who it was, because he could not recognize the pulse of magic, yet; but whoever was lurking outside their compartment was sure to come in sooner or later.

He turned tiredly to the window, his senses alert, and waited. Closing his eyes, Harry thought he would like to sleep sometime soon if possible, but the door opened with a bang loud enough to get both of his friends jump up from their seats. Only Harry turned calmly to the door, pulling back his mind from the few happy memories he had, to find himself staring into the sneering face of one Draco Malfoy – together in package with thick and stupid. Sighing, He prepared himself for an argument with his only opponent he did not have to kill to survive – hopefully. Harry scowled darkly before he got his facial expression under control. Searching for some Gryffindor typical remarks to throw the arrogant boy at the head, Harry gathered his wits.

"Aren't you a bit early, Malfoy?" With the last remnants of strength Harry put a dissecting look on his face, he took in all of what presented a very unpleasant and repulsive character – and tried not to show his reaction to the aggressive, swirling magic all around him.

The magic reacted to the mood of their owners. Harry knew that, but to be between Ron and Malfoy, when both boys were ready to scratch the other's eyes out, was frightening in his weak state. Harry tried not to look at the whipping out tendrils – blue and white from Ron, moss green tinged with blue from Malfoy. Malfoy was not as strong as Ron, but with a lot more conscious control and the knowledge and determination to use what was his. Looking calm and relaxed at the outside, Harry found himself shuddering between them. He had to end it fast. Breathing deeply, he concentrated on what Malfoy had to contribute to their conversation.

"Well, see who is here," the cold voice dripped with loathing, "Saint Scarhead, his weasel, and a frizzy horsetooth."

Harry's eyes narrowed, as he silently acknowledged his rival and kept a strong grip on Ron at the same time to avoid that the beet red boy stormed forward and got himself into trouble before the start of school.

"Malfoy, you are a way behind – as always." Harry sighed theatrically to put in a good show. "If you haven't noticed, Hermione's teeth look great. Ron's not related to the ferret family – as some others we know, and I, well, of course I'm a saint, but even a blinded chicken lays eggs, doesn't it, Malfoy."

"I wonder…," Harry calmly considered without giving away his need for haste, "did you need the whole summer to come up with the nice… comments?" Harry continued thoughtfully before Malfoy could get a word in through his clenched jaw.

"We have just started. You should have taken the whole train ride to think about more forthcoming insults." Harry pointedly ignored the desire to kill that flashed in the elegantly clothed boy's eyes.

Harry noticed Hermione, who held her wand tightly clasped. Her expression was determined and she had taken hold of Ron on the other side. The redhead seemed to want nothing more than jump into Malfoy's face.

"I suggest you take your doormats with you and go on someone else's nerves. Maybe you find someone interested in your opinion among the first years." Slowly Harry took a step forward and pushed Ron back in the same move. His hands tingled where he touched his friend.

"I swear, Malfoy," Harry said outwardly calm, standing only inches from the boy, "you don't want to mess with me." Malfoy backed up with confusion written all over his face, and Harry followed him. He held his own wand ready and an eye on Malfoy's cronies, lest they thought something up in the thick skulls of them.

"There'll be a few changes this year Malfoy, and you'd be better off staying far away from me and anyone I'm with." It was just for an instant that Malfoy lost his superior pureblood attitude before the boy's eyes glinted in defiance and his arrogance popped back full force. His, in some ways, really pretty face formed an ugly sneer.

"You're one to talk, Potter." Malfoy spit his name with more loathing than Harry was used to hear even from Snape. "Don't you want to tell your sidekicks of your summer activity?" Harry frowned. Malfoy could not know anything worthwhile. Everyone who had been there was dead, except Tom of course; but Tom could hardly talk to anyone other than Harry. It could be that some family friend had told Malfoy beforehand what was planned to happen, though. Whatever. Harry grinned coldly.

"Don't break a twig to think. That's of no worry for your poorblooded highness." He tilted his head as if thinking. "I take it your dear auntie didn't tell you what was going on? Trixie was her name, wasn't it?"

Harry smirked knowingly. Lestrange had not liked him calling her that. "You didn't see her for a while, did you? Is she still alive? Do you know? I'm sure she wouldn't just comply into being locked away like your precious father has done. How is your high esteemedlordling by the way? Doing good? Are you allowed to visit him, Malfoy? And did you tell him that you haven't learnt anything from past experiences? That you are still a failed attempt of something he can't ever get out of his genes. Really a pity, if you ask me," Harry said regretfully. He felt the magic even before he saw it blindly reaching out in all directions like a wild, rabid beast of prey. He stopped talking to give the other boy a moment to get back his control, lest he himself would be drawn from its powers.

"Pity yourself, Potter, you've every reason to." Malfoy eyed him in distain.

"Oh, I didn't pity you, Malfoy, if you haven't listened I pitied your ability to learn and to think for yourself. Or should I say inability?" Harry assessed him with raised brows like he had seen Snape doing when the man went on about Harry's attention seeking.

"Say Potter," Malfoy asked sweetly, "did you like being fucked by the Dark Lord?" The blonde's lips drew back and gave way to two rows of pearl white teeth, his whole being gloated with inappropriate mirth.

Harry's grip tightened at Ron's shirt in an attempt to suppress the fury, which rose up deep from the inside. Every thought in Harry stopped. He concentrated all his might to keep his cool, and then he saw Ron's magic reaching out. Harry's eyes widened in alarm. He could not hear Ron bellowing badly aimed insults above the wild roar the magic let loose in the tiny compartment. That would not do. He would need to find a way for Ron to get that ugly amount of temper in check, Harry thought practically. Merlin! It was frightening – and it hurt like hell where he held a raging Ron back. It was like gripping with his hand in liquid fire. Instinctively Harry pulled back only to have Ron coming forward like a bullet to beat Malfoy to the ground.

"Ron!" Harry gritted his teeth and gripped his friend again. He could not understand why Ron was always that physical. Was he not grown up in a Wizarding family? Even together with Hermione Harry had problems to restrain him. Harry felt the energy climbing to a new high. It was hard to breath and he desperately wanted to open the door. It was sad that his friend would probably never forgive him if he spelled him dead to the world in front of Malfoy. He had to get Ron to listen without Malfoy drawing conclusions. Taking hold of his own emotions, Harry turned to a satisfied Malfoy.

"What you dream of in that empty head of yours doesn't interest anyone, Malfoy, so don't tell us fairy tales." Malfoy looked confused as did Ron for a moment, and Harry remembered that both of them did not know the concept fairy tales.

"Nobody is giving a knut for your fabricated bullshit." Harry translated, thinking fast. He could not take his friends' memories of what Malfoy had said, or he would have to take Malfoy's memories as well. Bad luck on his front, Harry thought fatalistically. He would think of a way to use it to his advantage. Such an traumatic experience could certainly come in handy when he had to explain away his changes in behavior.

Harry did not need to exert himself to feel the magic in the room increasing. He felt the tendrils of energy merging with one another. He felt the magic surging and fighting for dominance.

Hermione was watching him like a hawk. It would not be easy to get her away from the thought, now that the word 'rape' was planted in her mind already. She was certainly weighing all information, questioning herself already whether Harry had told the truth or not.

"Is it true?" she breathed out with a shudder. "What Malfoy said?"

One hundred points! Harry straightened. Curiosity poured out of her like water. She could not have not asked, but damn it – she could have waited until he had gotten that piece of shit out of their compartment, at least. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Ron's magic reaching out forcefully. It striked Malfoy and forced the other boy to react. Malfoy's lips twitched as if he was aware what was going on – on some gut level instinct.

"Care to tell, Potter?" The perfidious look Malfoy sent him let cold fury burn in Harry's eyes. He did not like Malfoy and his attitude. He did not like that boy at all. One word at the wrong time and Harry's plan would evaporate to dust. He would not let him go any further than that.


	13. Chapter 12 : Preventing Overload

**Title:** Harry Potter and the Summer's Secret

_**Author:** Japhu_

_**Pairing:** HPSS_

_**Rating:** R_

_**Disclaimer:** I own nothing of Harry Potter and his world and don't make any money with it._

_**Summary:** For one week in summer Harry disappears without trace. When he comes back he claims to have no memory. But something happened and it changed him. It remains to be seen if for the better or the worse. (will be HPSS)_

_**Category:** action/adventure/angst_

_**Feedback:** highly appreciated_

* * *

**Chapter 12 - Preventing Overload**

"In case you did not hear what I said before…" Harry's face had lost all expression of friendliness – or rather the mask of neutrality he had worn before and stepped forward with utmost constraint to a still smirking Malfoy heir. "I'll gladly repeat it just for you." In the cold eyes of the Boy-Who-Lived flashed a vicious glint. "Stay. Far. Away. From me." Harry narrowed his eyes. He knew that Malfoy was too much his father's son to keep the distance for much longer than to the end of the train ride, but that did not really matter. The most important thing at the moment was that Malfoy got lost NOW.

Malfoy would run screaming if he knew how narrowly he escaped a fate much worse than the few bruises that would adorn his chest for the next days when Harry was finished with him. He felt the energy crackling all around him, searching for a weak point – which found it in him – to trigger the spark of destruction. It would bring the whole tense, extraordinarily frail building of magic to explosion – like the sinister grumbling in black towering storm clouds before the thunder rolled and lightning flashed to leave one deaf and awestruck face to face with such an incredible and breathtaking display of power. Harry did not imagine the tiny spark that flashed in front of his eyes when he raised his hand, although he tried to keep the magic to himself with every last one of his abilities. He was not nearly powerful enough to control it, and the magic just would not stopped flowing.

"Go, Malfoy, as long as you still can." he bit out. His voice sounded cool and detached. "And never cross my path again." Nothing of his inner fight and of the fury he felt shone through. Only an infinitesimal glimmer of something revealed that anything was amiss at all. Harry pushed the boy backwards with just a tip of his finger, and Malfoy stumbled against Crabbe or Goyle – Harry couldn't tell amidst the swirling maelstrom of colored but oppressing magical energy – with a surprised grunt. Malfoy would gracelessly have fallen to the ground if not for the oak like boys blocking the door and catching him awkwardly. Thoughtfully and without moving, Harry watched him getting to his feet. It must have felt as if someone had knocked the breath out of him – with a bulldozer. The bruise on his chest would not be a large but a very painful one – no little satisfaction Harry got out of this fact alone, and he smirked at that thought.

Malfoy should call himself lucky that Harry never had drawn his wand, for that would have made it only harder to control the magic. Malfoy had gotten away with the lesser of two evils, because Harry was not able to restrain everything – it just was not possible to hold so much energy so suddenly all at once. Something had to be let out or he would explode. Harry could not say what would have remained from the train and its occupants then, for once already he had loosened his powers and had seen the consequences of that. With a mask of bewilderment Malfoy scowled at him, his look never less contemptful, but now mingled with caution and fear. Harry noticed the narrowing of eyes and the hurt dignity, which was not worth a fart in Harry's thinking. He recognized the exact moment in which Malfoy decided to grow himself a backbone just now of all times.

"Don't!" Harry said with dangerous calm. "You won't like the consequences, Malfoy." Every single word held a promise of pain far beyond a schoolboy's imagination. "Just don't!" Harry watched and waited and hoped for Malfoy's sake that the boy had enough sense to go, because Harry was not entirely sure he could control himself a next time. On that matter he still had to cope with a fiercely scowling, but now fortunately silent Ron, whose violent magic alone was almost enough to break the shaky barrier Harry had set up around himself.

Out of the corner of his eye Harry could see that Ron was still in a staring match with the blond nemesis. Harry tightened his grip and wished that Ron simply would let Malfoy go without a fuss, so that he could sit down and take a deep, shaky breath. It was all the much harder, because Ron did not know what he caused. Harry had not left much strength to get his friend to calm down, so he just steadied his grip and pushed him to his seat. He did not want to use magic, not now, not here, and not when he could not control himself. Harry did not want to hurt his best friend. He just wanted to stop his temper from reigning free.

Harry forced himself to let go of Ron. He could not hold him back without revealing himself, so Harry hoped that Ron would calm down fast on his own when Malfoy was gone. Harry blinked. He did not feel so good. Malfoy was nothing more than a turquoise, somewhat murky silhouette of energy. The whole room was nothing more than a bunch of colors from which Harry could not separate one from the other. It would have been disturbing, if he had not grown accustomed to it by then in some lesser degree. If Harry squinted his eyes he could see Malfoy opening his mouth to say something, his silver eyes flashing to Hermione and to Ron, but never meeting his.

Harry did not care what the boy had to say, not now as he needed to concentrate to read the magic and to hold it back from release. He just looked at Malfoy and growled deep in his throat. With his hand raised to the green clad chest Harry stepped forward again, and he felt himself trembling with suppressed power. He knew that the magic searched for a way out. Harry blinked. Suddenly his aim was not there anymore and the doorway empty. He drew a deep breath and let his hand drop.

Hermione and Ron could not see what had made Malfoy pale that way and led him to take more cautious steps back, shoving past his goons with some difficulty and hurrying out of the compartment. Had they asked Malfoy, he would have said that only an for instant he thought to have seen that Potter's eyes flashed in a vibrant violet color before they turned back into dark green ice, cold and passionless waiting for him to decide on his future. Now that Malfoy had fled and his magical presence diminished to nothing the farther he got away, he felt something shifting within the magic.

Harry wordlessly closed the door. He found it really fortunate that Malfoy was not one of the most courageous people and a Slytherin, who considered his own being more important than anything else, because Malfoy surely would have stayed longer, otherwise. If Malfoy only used the head nature had bestowed him with, for once, and learned something from past experiences, that whole affair could have been prevented. Rasping, Harry watched the closed door. His legs felt wobbly. It would not have required much more and Harry he have lost control.

"Serves him right! Death Eater!" Still with a red face and tightly balled fists Ron grunted and let himself fall onto the seat in front of which Harry had shoved him, completely boneless.

"Eat another frog, Ron, and let us breath." Harry all but fell down in the seat, completely drained and sweating like he just ran a marathon. A second more and he would not have had to worry about anything. He relished in the feeling of receding magic, as he could feel a never satisfied appetite for power awoke, an almost desperate need to have it, to yield it – but he could not.

Harry felt the copper taste of blood in his mouth where he bit his cheek and swallowed heavily. He let himself think farther into the cushions, completely out of breath and ready to drop dead just to get some quiet. Slowly but steadily pain and numbness receded and his sight became clear once more. For the first time since Malfoy had stormed their compartment, Harry looked at Hermione. He could not remember when she had let go of Ron, but now she sat sunken into her corner, pale faced. She desperately wrung her hands, and Harry remembered what she had said. She seemed to feel his look as she glanced guiltily up to him, saying nothing, and simply waited for Harry to tell her that she had blundered on the whole front.

"I'm really sorry, Ron." Harry said without turning his face away from the quivering girl. "I didn't want to push you." He did not listen to Ron's temper ridden answer and wondered what burned in Hermione's mind.

"Why did you do it?" Harry's voice was restrained. He was to exhausted to lay real emotions in his words – and did not really care. No, that was a lie, he did care what his friends did, even if he should not. "You never questioned me in front of Malfoy before," he reminded her cautiously. He did ot want his friend to beat herself up about it, as it seemed to have left her more shaken than Harry thought justified.

"I'm sorry, Harry. It was just…" She looked like death walking. "I… can't…" Tears leaked out of her eyes. "I was overwhelmed. At first your disappearance and than Malfoy saying that you… that you…" She breathed heavily. "I was shocked and so much thought went around and…" She sighed heavily.

"I was thinking about… what Malfoy had said and… suddenly—" An anxious frown formed on her face when she questioningly looked at both boys. "Did you feel it?" She drew a trembling breath, shaken to the core. "There was… I don't know." She shook her head. Harry saw her rainbow colored aura flicker uncertainly in accord with her mood. His eyes grew wide. _It can't be!_

"I just thought about what I wanted to ask you when we'd have a moment alone, but… I just couldn't, Harry. I don't know what happened. I'm so sorry."

"Everything was disappearing and I thought about what happened and still could happen and then the pressure grew and I wanted to know so much, and I couldn't breath. I couldn't not ask, Harry. I wasn't even there for a moment and I felt…"

"You felt something?" Harry gently interrupted her rambling, inwardly utterly tense. It could have been the magic that set Harry on edge. Maybe the magic had done something similar to Hermione? She must have felt the magic gathering shortly before Ron's outburst. She would not know what was going on. She could not have known, but why should not some people be more perceptive to things like that than others? It was possible, was it not?

"I'm sorry Harry, I just couldn't take it anymore. Did you feel it?" She searchingly looked at him, desperate for someone to understand what had been going on. "It was pressing down my chest, I couldn't breath and I wanted to get out, but I couldn't. I couldn't think straight. I had to do something and I just had to say something. It was the first that came to my mind and I really wanted to know… want to know what happened to you." She looked at him with a shadow of her former appearance, but at his inquisitive stare she looked down again.

"I'm sorry Harry. I do believe you, really. I just want to know why you lost your memories." Harry grimaced. She was working herself in a frenzy, not a thing he had seen before. He caught Ron's eyes, but the redhead looked away, still clearly miffed at Harry's harsh attitude towards him; although, Harry could see him throwing worried glances at the girl.

"Calm down, Hermione." Harry turned back to the frantic girl. "Please. No harm done."

"I was just thinking about everything you had said… and Malfoy and…" Another desperate shake of her head. "I don't know, suddenly I felt this…" Frowning, she looked into the air, reliving the whole occurrence in her mind, searching for some clues to explain what had happened and why she had reacted that way.

What did it mean that Hermione could feel the magic? If one measured pure magical power Hermione was not as strong as Ron by any means, but Harry could not read her aura all that well. The colors were all wrong – too much for one person, even if most had more than one; but she had felt it consciously. His heart clenched painfully as he listened.

"He's right, Hermione. Don't think about it anymore." Ron offered a bit awkwardly. Harry cast him a fleeting glance. When Hermione had felt the energy – and it had been a lot of it, how could Ron not? Harry would like to ask Ron, but the fiery temper was still cursing through his body and Harry honestly did not feel strong enough to handle Ron again just then.

"I just didn't concentrate… I…" she shook her head, unable to find the right words to explain anything at all. Thoughtfully and with hope shining in her eyes, her gaze rested on the boys. "Did anyone of you feel it? It was like… as if someone was here with us in the room. It made me dizzy and I just… couldn't think."

"Well, yeah. Malfoy made me dizzy, too. Bastard!" Ron announced unimpressed, clearly not seeing the impact of Hermione's slip. However, Ron said what he wanted whenever he felt like it – without thinking, mind you. Hermione simply ignored him, as did Harry after a harsh look.

"It was all about the room. I've never felt anything remotely related to this. I just… couldn't think clearly. I didn't now something like that was even possible. Nowhere I have found references to something like…" She was at a loss of words and fell, white as chalk, back in her seat. "God! I can't believe I said that!" Her wand trembled in her hand like a tree in a storm. "In front of Malfoy!"

"Well, at least you didn't blurt out the important bits. It wasn't as if you said something Malfoy didn't know already." Harry tried to loosen up the mood. "Everyone can have a blackout of sorts." He tilted his head. "Even if you didn't have one until now. It's human." He shrugged.

"I was just… thinking aloud." Harry sighed. Slowly Hermione's rambling got on his nerves. He wanted quiet. It was not that he did not feel with her, but as he could not possibly tell her the truth, could she not let go of it? It was not really that bad. Harry suppressed a small, tired grin. At least it looked like he did not need to tell her anything to get her help. Hermione would research everything on her own and let him in on what she learnt under way.

"Well, gather yourself and look it up in the library." he said lightly, giving her the right impulse. For once the girl looked as if she had found the ground under her feet again. It would help Harry immensely as he had still enough things to search for, but she did not need to know that.

"Thanks, Harry. But what Malfoy said—" Harry looked a bit chagrined at herself for questioning him. Then he shrugged, returning her gaze.

"Could be. I don't have any memories. Remember?" It came out laced with sarcasm, but she did not look away.

"Are you sure?" she inquired notwithstanding. Harry bit his lips and nodded.

"Quite. I would know, wouldn't I?"

"Perhaps you just repressed what happened, because of its traumatic impact it had on you." Merlin! Could she not be normal for once. One moment she almost sobbed her heart out, and in the next she called the inquisition back to life.

"Don't try to psychoanalyze me, Hermione." Harry rolled his eyes in good humor. "I wouldn't take for granted anything that Malfoy came up with in a decent conversation, much less in an exchange of niceties like the preceding one. He's just trying to rile us up." Neither of his friends seemed wholly convinced.

"It didn't seem as if you couldn't remember." Hermione mentioned quietly, never wavering in her opinion.

"What?" Harry turned abruptly. He wanted it to stop. "Should I have thanked him for letting me know what was going on? Most probably he was making everything up in that pomade dripping head of his." Harry allowed some annoyance to shine through his exhausted expression.

"What do you think Malfoy would have done, if it seemed as if I couldn't remember one damn thing? Should I have asked him whether he would do me the favor of telling me the whole story?" Harry laughed unhappily. "He would have been gone to the first one wearing a white mask before the train stopped." Hermione looked disturbed and Ron kept his gloomy expression directed to his shoes. Neither of them did seem to want to talk any further and Harry let them wallow in their own worlds, as he took the opportunity to close his eyes for just an instant.

He would have to think of convincing lies to keep them away from the truth. Most things did not even matter should they figure them out, but he had to remind himself to never let them forget that he had no memory. Never let them forget that he was just a Gryffindor, trusting, innocent a heart and not remotely perceptive and devious enough to devise and plot tricky plans and to fool others for longer than two days.

The whole thing was a puzzle. How could Ron be so strong and not know it – or use the inborn magic even unconsciously. He had to feel it. Harry felt every bit of magic he did, even before he had changed. Hermione had felt it, not seen, but certainly felt. It would probably lead to complications when she crammed her head full with knowledge about the working of magic in general. And Malfoy? Harry was not sure if the boy knew facts or was just spouting his usual pureblood nonsense, though, he had not shown a reaction to anything but Harry's push.

Harry suppressed a growl. It would be harder than he had anticipated to hold on to his plan and to keep Tom a secret while he worked to achieve it. He could not have his friends – or his enemies – following him everywhere, second guessing everything he did or did not do. After a few minutes Harry sighed and pried his eyes open when the silence grew oppressing and let the magic crackle anew with anticipation.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't want to shout at you." Harry looked flustered and went on with a slight quiver in his voice for good measure. "I… I just don't know what happened… and it makes me a bit restless that everyone seems to know so much more then I do."

"I'm sorry, too, Harry." Hermione smiled with obvious relieve. "I didn't want to press. I'm sure everything will be sorted out soon. Dumbledore will help you." She meant it for reassurance, Harry was certain, but it only made his innards squirm.

"Yes," he bit out with a friendly grin. "I'm sure the headmaster can help." Harry felt the bile rising in his throat. Dumbledore was a problem he had to get around somehow. The old man was much too ubiquitous and nosy to give him comfort in his presence. Harry watched the landscape passing by, He did not want to loose his calm now when the crisis had come and passed of all things. He shuddered when the last remains of magic sought its way and buzzed around. He could still feel the energy in his fingertip. The spark was there, Harry was sure, he just had to get it to the fire.

"How did you do it?" Ron inquired oddly subdued and Harry spun around.

"What?" He rubbed his eyes, blinking.

"Malfoy. You just looked at him and he went all pale and left."

"Reputation, Ron, and a lot of practice." Harry grinned and he let his eyes close for good. His friends did not know it yet, but there would be real changes, not only according to Malfoy, but between the three of them, too. Later, Harry thought sleepily, when it would not be as suspicious as now. Then he drifted fast into another world of premonition and darkness, and full of signs he could not read.


	14. Chapter 13 : Sleeping Soundly

**Title:** Harry Potter and the Summer's Secret

_**Author:** Japhu_

_**Pairing:** HPSS_

_**Rating:** R_

_**Disclaimer:** I own nothing of Harry Potter and his world and don't make any money with it._

_**Summary:** For one week in summer Harry disappears without trace. When he comes back he claims to have no memory. But something happened and it changed him. It remains to be seen if for the better or the worse. (will be HPSS)_

_**Category:** action/adventure/angst_

_**Feedback:** highly appreciated_

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**Chapter 13 - Sleeping Soundly**

Plunged into all consuming darkness, a boy was running. He did not know how long, or to where his feet directed him to, but he knew that he needed to get away from the oppressing gloom, from the shadows and the hidden watchers. He followed a nearly untraceable glimmer of – not light, but… less darkness. What he could see was rather gutfelt. Far away something violet flickered in the shadows, but there were no recognizable landscapes or other marks to orientate oneself by, nothing that attracted an observer's attention as peculiar, except the fighting.

Trees and houses were burning in a dark violet fire, almost too dark to distinguish it from its surroundings. Ever so slowly the boy stepped closer. He watched attentively with wide eyes, for there was no natural light, only the violet glow, which made him see at least the silhouettes of buildings, ruins mostly, some of them abandoned, others, like glowing torches, reaching far up into the sky. Where was this place?

There was the crackle of flaring flames; distorted shouts and screams full of pain echoed widely throughout the night, and a lot of energy – an enormous whirlwind of magic – hovered above the place and made his heart stop with anxiety. Once and again a low crouching figure seemed to rush past, keeping itself in the darkest of shadows, merging with the everpresent blackness like ghosts through the walls. Why was he here now?

The boy did not recognize anything. He had never seen a town like that, with towers that seemed too wispy to stand upright and buildings – or ruins of buildings – with high archways sculpted out of the mountain itself. Ornaments and mosaics under his feet led him to the burning center of the town. It was breathtaking even now, barely illuminated by the dim violet light, wrapped up into an all devouring fire that would leave nothing but some soot covered foundations in the morning – if something like morning existed in this world. Still, the boy looked awed as he stepped through a churning sea of blood, and he memorized the sight, everything was encased with an unreal haze of diffuse, violet brightness.

The boy had no weapon, no way to defend himself against danger, though, he seemed oddly separated from this place and time. He felt no fear, none of the people took notice of him when he lightly stepped between them. The screams did not reach the part of his heart where his feelings should reside. Almost clinically he watched the dying and dead and took notice of dark robed men who searched through the tiniest holes for someone to kill. The boy knew with certainty that he had seen them before, but there was nothing in his mind but a black hole. He thought about it as he walked closer to the remains of the small, burning town; just like anything else, though, it did not really worry him. But where did he come from?

A slightly crooked, otherworldly smile suddenly bloomed on his face. The town, the magic, everything – it was just beautiful, and it called to him. The magic here had another consistence than he was used to, but he answered nonetheless. It lived. It was real, and it filled him with unimaginable joy. The boy raised his head with gleaming eyes, gazing above the dying people to the highest spire, laughing. For a long time the magic and he were completely balanced, and it felt great and too precious to loose. However, nothing good could last forever. When the screams merged back from nothing and thick clouds of smoke bared his sight of the blazing town the boy knew that he was watched again, and he felt a forgotten presence in his mind awake.

Suddenly there was pain. He felt it deep inside his bones – a ripping, biting and burning all through his body. He gave a jerk when the heated whispering of flames skimmed over his body, and the people around him – all at once – turned to him with glowing eyes, and he screamed.

He ran again, faster than ever before, but the town itself seemed to float back in the same pace the boy glided soundlessly forward. He was not able to leave this place. Slowly trepidation crept up his spine, because the watcher was there again and the boy had no means to hide anymore. People held his feet with claw like hands as he tried to pass them: He slipped in the blood, stumbling and falling more than once. He had to fight to keep going, and all of a sudden he stood amidst a wall of fire and had nowhere to go anymore.

Drawing heavy breaths, the boy stopped and looked hastily for a way out. He found none. In all directions a violet blaze surrounded him. Even above him a dome of fire took his sight to the sky. The air in his lungs was burning. Separated from the rest of the world, his heart pounded ominously in his chest – and amidst that scene from hell stood a man clad in red and violet robes, the hood pulled deeply into his face. with a dark gloved hand he beckoned the boy to come closer.

Harry tilted his head. He was not scared anymore, but curious to look under the hood. He reared back in surprise when he found himself at the receiving end of an darkly amused, twinkling blue eyed stare, a sinister glow in the wildly flickering light of fire, and a baritone voice vibrated in his bones as the man squeezed Harry's upper arm in a painful grip.

"I see you, boy!" he said.

Harry screamed. He shot awake with a trembling gasp to find himself scrutinized by another pair of twinkling blue eyes. _Merlin!_ Harry freed himself with a rough jerk of his arm and slumped inelegantly back, an involuntarily shudder running down his spine.

"My boy? Is everything alright?" The man sounded truly worried. Harry drew deep breaths and tried to calm himself. _It had been a dream! Had it been a dream?_

"I hope it was not I that frightened you?" A fool's grin accompanied the inquisitive stare and belied the solemn look. _What was his mask? Fool or foe? _Harry forced a polite smile onto his face.

"I'm fine, thanks." Harry mumbled and slid farther back. "Just an exciting dream, sir." _Hopefully._ Harry tried to be inconspicuous and smiled reassuringly, as if the crazy wizard would pay attention. He suppressed a shudder. It had not felt more real or unreal then other dreams. It certainly had not felt like one of his former visions. And that man? Whoever it had been it was not a snake faced bastard like Voldemort – not on the outward, at least. It certainly had not been Voldemort himself. Harry could still feel the alien presence reverberate in his skull, and it was another silently watching presence, but not Tom who was back now, too, startled and curiously alarmed.

Out of the corner of his eye Harry could see Ron and Hermione watching with concerned faces. However, Ron's incredulous stare was mainly directed at the ridiculous clad man – open mouthed and wide eyed. Harry glanced up cautiously and waited what the man would do. _Why did that peacock not realize that nobody was interested in his crazy talk? _Harry flinched when the wizard's eyes gleamed with mirth.

"Well, my boy." Harry grimaced. "If everything's fine with you, make sure that you and your friends are ready to change into your robes. We'll arrive soon." A delighted grin spread over the wizard's face as he gleefully rubbed his hand. "It's really exciting to go to Hogwarts, finally."

"Yes." Harry growled and wished the man away with all his might. The wizard only blinked at Harry's rude answer, but his eyes sparkled.

"I'd really like to talk to you some more, my boy." he sighed with an expression of regret, as though he could not imagine Harry to prefer anything above his company. "But I fear I have to go securing the train, as Severus has the front and absolutely refuses to come to the compartments at the back."

Ron snorted and Harry narrowed his eyes, impatient to see him gone. Nobody could be that dense! It was either that Snape did not want to have anything to do with the sixth and seventh years who mostly sat in the last wagons, or he could not stand a certain wizard's presence. Personally, Harry thought the latter more likely, because Snape never had been one to miss an opportunity to kick a student to the ground. Harry and Ron glanced knowingly at each other and even Hermione looked incredulous, before she turned her attention to her pack of books and avoided looking at the teacher alltogether and give away what was plainly written on her face.

The wizard moved backwards to the door. Then he surveyed the whole compartment with a searching eye and jerked his attention back to Harry.

Harry grimaced inwardly, still feeling slightly out of place. Pictures of his dream still ghosted through his head and his arm hurt where the man of his dream had gripped him. Dreams were crap. His dreams above all. He did not want to think about its meaning should it have been real. It probably only hurt, because that crazy fool of a teacher had shook him awake so roughly.

Harry did not know what he should do about a dream like that. Nothing seemed right, nothing made sense of anything. But to whomever would ask him, Harry could honestly say that it had not been a dream of Voldemort. He did not think so, at least, as Tom still was safely put away. Harry had felt his anxiety along with his. Aware of his future teacher's assessing stare Harry forced himself not to shift in his seat and to return the piercing look with curious innocence.

"Are you sure, my boy, that you feel well?" His imploring gaze never wandered from Harry's eyes while he stopped his retreat at the door.

"Yeah." Ron nodded and gazed doubtfully up and down the wizard's robe. "You were moaning in your sleep, but we couldn't wake you. Hermione even tried—" Harry just looked at Hermione. She bit her lip and poked a finger into Ron's side to make him stop. Ron yelped surprised, frowned shortly and turned back to his inspection, but he kept his mouth shut. Harry sighed. His friends had it in today with talking in front of people of things that were none of their business. What was it? Fate? With a flourish bow towards them, the wizard left after a last questioning glance to Harry.

As soon as the door had snapped in Harry took a deep breath to let Ron know exactly what he thought about this stupid staring and forgetting his mouth. Hermione was faster. Harry swallowed wordlessly, suppressed everything not Gryffindor and looked at her above his glasses, listening patiently to her explanation.

"You didn't look too well a short while ago. We thought it better to let you sleep." She looked uncomfortable saying so, not sure about her friend's reaction. "He just came in, introduceed himself and told us to get ready to exit. He asked if everything was well."

"Yeah, before we could do or say something the… he… just turned to you all of a sudden and woke you. He didn't even really touch you, but you shot up as if he had hit you." Ron thought aloud, puzzled.

"You are a bit white around the nose, Harry. Are you sure you're alright?" Hermione asked worriedly.

"Yes. I'm just a bit jumpy." Harry's arm still stung painfully; and he had not touched him? "How would you feel when that coot would stand in inch from your face and grinned at you as if you were his birthday cake?" Sighing quietly, Harry looked out of the window.

"What was that guy by the way?" The redhead stared at the closed door. He blinked from moment to moment as if waking from a daze. Before Hermione could open her mouth to tell them that it obviously only gave one possibility, Harry took the lead in a much less dictionary tone of voice, all the while rubbing his arm unconsciously.

"That, my friends," Harry announced irritated, "is Dumbledore's next excuse for our newest Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

"That, that—" Ron stuttered.

"Peacock?" Harry suggested calmly with a raised brow, staying seated and just turned from the window for a moment. Ron snorted, momentarily forgetting his bad mood.

"Well." Ron blinked. "I wanted to say canary, but peacock hits it well."

"Quite. And you wanted to say?"

"I'm just… I can't believe Dumbledore's allowing him to even enter the school, much less teaching! What is he supposed to do? Showing off his robes to blind us?"

"Boys! Don't talk about teachers like that!" Hermione interrupted them with an indignant scowl.

"I'll admit that the first impression was not the best." Hermione gave both of them a dark look. "However, he might be really good in what he teaches, and his ignorance in reading people's… intentions doesn't have to mean that he's a bad teacher."

"You're right, Hermione." Harry looked up at her thoughtfully and smiled brightly. "He could talk us to death after all."

"Yeah, some of the Slytherins at least." Ron added grinning. "It would safe us a lot of trouble."

"Yep. However, it's a much better beginning than Umbridge's methods. Now we might at least get some practice when running to hide from him."

"What a funny fool! Really." Ron shook his head.

Harry bit his lip to keep from giving his own account on what a fool that teacher really was. That man was so obviously wrong that Harry began to ask himself what the idiot hoped to achieve with this act, for an act it had to be. Not even Lockhart had been that stupid and nobody could be more a fool than he. Harry shook his head. It was just due to the magic that Harry could see through his facade. To everyone else the man really was only a nutcase with twinkling blue eyes. Harry could not get this fact out of his head. He would have to be extra careful not to show his powers accidently in his future DADA teacher's presence.

Whatever his dream – whether the DADA teacher had to do something with it or not – more people than Dumbledore and this false fool had blue eyes. However, the fact remained that the wizard's magic and his appearance did not work with each other at all. It was as if there were two different people in one body. Harry did not really believe that possible, though, for it would be too much of an coincidence. First Quirrell, then – in a way – Harry himself and now that Bradarish guy, too. It was too much of a coincidence to be a coincidence. If one counted the probability for even one such occurrence it was just not possible that this guy was possessed. No, it was not that. So why did he pretend to be someone he was not?

Had the man seen something, felt something? Was that the reason he had been here that fast? Just in the right moment to wake him before… Harry shook his head. He was reading too much in his teacher's behavior. Maybe that man was a fool like Ron was thinking; but Harry could not help himself to disagree.

"He's not funny at all." _And not a fool either_. Harry lost his playfulness abruptly. That man was dangerous. He did not want his friends anywhere near that man, even if he could not tell them why. He had to give them something to work on, but he would do it later when he could read the guy better than now, and when he had some evidence for his suspicions.

"What do you mean?" Ron questioned and even Hermione looked up from her book she was immersed.

"That guy's like all of the bad eggs smashed together into a mixer, and what you get out is that mad bird – with the rest called Junas." Ron took his answer stoically, but Hermione frowned.

"Who's Junas?" was all Ron had to say, and with a blank glance he added: "And what's a mixer?"

"His just as crazy son, and an appliance to chop up different ingredients and to… well, mix them together." Harry said shortly to both questions. Watching Hermione working meticulously, he shrugged. "That guy's giving me a headache."

"Well, no wonder how he's looking." Ron got on excitedly. "And that name!" he went on without listening at all. "I bet you have memorized it already, eh Hermione?" The girl gazed at her friend as if she saw him for the first time and went back to her books, to sort them and pack them, before they had to get off the train. Ron would surely get his part to bear. Harry's lips twitched.

"How is that crap of a name pronounced anyway?" Ron scratched his chin, completely ignorant of anything else going on. "Bradararish? Braba—"

"Oh, Ron. It's really not that bad a name." Hermione waved impatiently her hand to stop him.

"And?"

"Bra-DA-ro-wicz. It's not that hard a name to speak."

"Witch?" Ron's voice climbed new heights. "That's a loony wizard. What a guy calls himself a witch?" He furrowed his brows. "And what's a Bradaro Witch?"

"Don't play dumb, Ron. Of course it doesn't mean 'witch'. It's just the way it sounds. I think it's something from Eastern Europe, maybe Poland or somewhere near there."

"Poland? Where the hell is Poland?"

"Ron! Don't you know anything?" She crossed her arms. "And I have said already that it's in Eastern Europe."

"Give in, Ron." Harry interrupted their bickering. "It's just a name. Call him peacock, if you don't like the other. Or dung ball or canary crap, whatever." He yawned tiredly and hoped that no more surprises where waiting for him on his way to Hogwarts. Ron and Hermione looked at each other worriedly.

"Are you alright, Harry?" Ron asked hesitatingly.

"I'm just tired." Harry yawned. "Snape wasn't that much fun, you know, and the summer's still sitting in my bones." His eyes closed. Before he drifted off he could hear Hermione rustling with some pages in some obscure book. He believed himself asleep already, lulled into slumber by the train's noises, when he heard her questioningly whispering.

"What's his given name? Did you hear it, Ron?" Ron's answer somewhat subdued, as if his mouth was busy chewing: "I have no clue, but I bet it's something colorful." Harry thought about answering, but he was more exhausted than before he had slept, and the rumbling of the train lulled him deeper into slumber.

"Harry! Don't fall asleep." Hermione's voice brought him back abruptly, just when he thought himself able to forget everything about dreams, visions and fate. From his earlier dream remained only a feeling of uneasiness that made him shift in his seat with tenseness. However, he had already forgotten most of it but the twinkling blue eyes.

"It's only a few minutes, Harry." Hermione still was not satisfied. "You need to change," she reminded him.

"Don't fret, Hermione. I'm up and about," Harry muttered and fished for his trunk. An instant later he looked apologetically at her, holding his open palm for her to see what he had to show.

"I can't reach my wand." Harry innocently winked at her. "Could you enlarge this, please?" He held his trunk out to her and took Hermione's lecture about carelessness and unnecessarily tempted danger with humor and a small hidden grin while he threw his old school robe over his shoulders and nodded once in a while, promising his friend to keep his wand ready at all times.


	15. Chapter 14 : Hogwarts' Station

**Title:** Harry Potter and the Summer's Secret

_**Author:** Japhu _

_**Pairing:** HPSS_

_**Rating:** R_

_**Disclaimer:** I own nothing of Harry Potter and his world and don't make any money with it._

_**Summary:** For one week in summer Harry disappears without trace. When he comes back he claims to have no memory. But something happened and it changed him. It remains to be seen if for the better or the worse. (will be HPSS)_

_**Category:** action/adventure/angst_

_**Feedback:** highly appreciated_

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**Chapter 14 - Hogwarts' Station**

Hermione had been right. It really were only a few minutes until the train slowed down and the locomotive's whistle screamed their arrival throughout the country. Closing his trunk with a snap, Harry glanced skeptically out of the window and to the sky. When they had started in King's Cross the sky had been brilliantly blue, now the sun was hidden behind a diffuse veil of mist. Harry narrowed his eyes. He liked a blue sky much better. This twilight thing seemed ominous, although it just could be the first sign of autumn, too, despite the still summer warm temperatures. However, the light was bright enough to blind him and to leave a flickering green spot behind his eyelids whenever he closed them. Blinking, Harry sat down again. To avoid the masses, and in Harry's case the stares he would surely get, they had unanimously decided to wait until most students had left the train.

Harry sighed and forced his drooping eyelids open. His exhaustion did not let go of him. He yawned, his face still turned to the window. It could not be simple lack of sleep. Stifling another yawn, Harry watched his friend. Ron had taken the dangerous task to peer through the door and alert them when the path was clear. Only when the redhead beckoned them with a conspiratorial grin, Harry found the will to coerce his legs into working, taking one step after another without stumbling or falling. Carefully, Harry followed an excitedly bouncing Ron and an absent-minded Hermione, his thoughts only occupied with one thing: Sleep!

Harry hoped that he could evade the yearly, obligatory welcoming party in the common room and escape to bed. He took hold of the wall to support himself, yawning again. It had to be the magic, which made him feel totally drained. Even when they had been under way Harry had felt the castle's magic, but now when they were a lot closer to Hogwarts' grounds he became more restless and his anxiety grew. Harry shuddered. The magic came in waves. Sometimes he did not feel the pull at all, but then there were moments when he could barely breath and it felt as if someone sat heavily on his chest, a sumo ringer or perhaps an elephant or two. It was fortunate that they could leave their trunks behind. Harry would not have been able to take it with him in any way. He was glad that they reached the castle in just a few minutes now. He stepped down the stairs and drew a shuddering breath, because as soon as he got out of the train he felt its presence augment exceptionally. Hogwarts was close, really close.

Harry almost did not dare to look up, for even now when he looked to the ground he noticed out of the corner of his eye that the light became brighter, and it was not the sun – he recognized it now – but the magic itself. Blinking, Harry kept looking at his feet. The stones he stepped on, the grass that cleaved itself a way between them, the scurrying beetle and the snail it crawled over – everything was filled with magic and glimmered brightly to a greater or lesser extent. The trees, the bushes, the ground itself – from his viewpoint the whole world appeared in a rainbow colored, whispering light of low buzzing energy. It was a breathtaking sight, but incredibly taxing. Harry trembled in awe and shook his head when he remembered that there was a world behind those colors, in which he still had to fullfill a destiny.

Harry hesitated to follow his friends further. He doubted that his ability to cope with this amount of magic had its source in fear. However, it was a logical conclusion from everything that had happened today. Harry did not know if he should go on at all. Maybe he was better off going back to the Dursleys until he had more control. Harry snorted. What an absurd thought! He could not wait to get to the castle, even now; but when Harry felt the Hogwarts ground and the school, from this distance, stronger than even the continuous magical flow at Diagon Alley, he should be sure he could live through the time of accustoming before he went further.

Breathing deeply and only taking the smallest steps, Harry concentrated on the magical aura of Hogwarts. There was layer above layer, much too much for him to get an even halfway correct impression; though, he noticed a difference between the grounds of Hogwarts and the castle itself. All around he could see a brightly lit dome of magic, vibrating in the dull, rhythmical throb of the Earth itself. There was a lot of energy, and not everything was just for protection. Most of it was simply there, it had no task set, but it was… amazing.

The castle was strange – or more strange than anything else Harry had experienced. The magic surrounding and soaking it was frightening. It pulsed as if breathing, and Harry would swear that it was a sentient being of some sort – not like a person, but… a being. It appeared to be… happy to be filled with children, and… curious to feel something new… something old it had not perceived for quite a while now. Harry inwardly reared back when the castle's attention was directed at where he was standing like frozen. Chewing his bottom lip, he focused with narrowed eyes and turned to where the castle's towers glimpsed over the hilltops and the lazily swaying treetops of a seemingly endless forest. It was intriguing all the same, and it should not really come as a surprise. Hogwarts was thousands of years old – a lot of time to gather stray energy. A snap of a finger against his thoughtfully wrinkled forehead pulled Harry back from wherever his thoughts had gone to.

"Are you in there, Harry?" Harry shuddered, blinking as if awoken from a dream, and nodded.

"Of course," he mumbled nearly incoherently as the magic took its toll. It was harder than Harry had thought it possible and it would only increase with time, he knew. He smiled reassuringly at a worried looking Ron and, with a wave of the hand, indicated for him to go on – luckily Ron did not see its trembling.

Only now Harry found himself taking a look around for the other students. He searched fleetingly for classmates to get an inkling of the general opinion of the Boy-Who-Lived. However, as they were nearly the last ones on the way to the carriages there were not a lot of students to see. A few late first years huddled in a group together, bustling with excitement, and hurrying to reach the roaring shape of Hagrid, all the while looking at him wide eyed and awed. Some of the older ones seemed to waver between benign curiosity and open hostility. The few of the DA he saw passing greeted him with small nods of acknowledgement before they went their own ways. Then Cho and her friend Marietta passed by. Harry stared through them and adamantly ignored their looks. Frowning, he turned away from the girls. He missed the dark, assessing look from the other end of the station where the Potions Master got the last student running with only an elegant raise of his brow.

Instead of watching out for watchers, Harry called his attention to his carroty-haired friend, as he could see him out of the corner of his eye turning an interesting shade of red, seemingly still staring at the two girls. Harry frowned thoughtfully, but refrained to say anything. Last year Ron had not seemed too fond of either of the girls, but maybe that had only been because Cho had had eyes for Harry before she thought better and chose someone else. Harry turned around though, when Ron's eyes nearly popped out of the sockets, and took another look at her. His brows rose to new heights.

Junas Bra… thingamabob was bowing with an overly sweet smile toward a flabbergasted Cho Chang, who giggled with an unusually colored complexion despite that the boy was two years younger and an inch shorter than she, at the least. Harry suppressed a less flattering comment and, with a twitch of his lips, snapped Ron's hanging jaw back in place.

"Merlin!" Ron stared. "That's the son!" he declared in one of his brighter moments, and Harry rolled his eyes.

"Look into the future, Ron." Harry suggested. "At Hogwarts he'll have to wear school robes, so you'll be safe then and our eyes will get a break."

"But look at him!" His voice jumped a whole octave. Even Hermione ascended from her inner heights and took a look at what made Ron loose his cool again. The display between the Asian girl and the pink headed boy elicited no more than a fleeting, disapproving glance, before she dismissed them.

"He won't even be in our year." She went back to her complicated thought patterns, probably too demanding for simple minded people like her friends. Harry grinned. It was good to know Hermione on his side. She would be a great help in his research.

For a few meters Harry dragged Ron behind, then the boy followed on his own. Harry was not sure if Ron had been knocked over by the boy's or the girl's reaction. He shrugged this train of thoughts away, because it did not really matter as he had problems to solve, which were much more important to him.

Contemplatively, Harry looked ahead. The castle was brimming with magic and he would go there – voluntarily. Harry shook his head. Carelessness? Lack of sense and choices? Perhaps all of that. He could try to unravel the castle's magic forever and would not get one more clue. Harry could feel it – the vibrating of magic, more pressing with even the smallest step he took toward the ancient building. It would be interesting to see what happened when he let go of some of his own. The castle would react to any magical outburst in near vicinity, Harry felt that fact for true.

If he were not in a weakened state, on the brink of collapsing, and had a bit more control… Well, Harry would see the castle's reaction soon enough. After all he was on the way there. Harry cast a sharp look at the Thestrals in front of their carriage. They looked the same as last year, but something was missing. Harry looked intently.

Then he lost his step, startled out of reverie not by a wave of magic but a little girl, who ran straight into him – a first year even smaller than Harry remembered himself to have been. Harry blinked, tumbling from exhaustion and the vehemence of the impact like a drunk after a whole night of party. He only caught himself at the carriage he had just wanted to enter.

Taking a deep breath, Harry shoved all thought of unusual magical energy and suspiciously normal looking Thestrals away and bend down to a pair of round, tear-filled eyes, which looked up to him out from a dark-haired mop of seesawing curls. It seemed only a moment before she would burst into tears. Her lower lip was already trembling in fear. Harry tensed. He had not much experience with children of any age. All he knew about childhood was his happiness when it had finally been over – that would not help now, though.

"Hey there, why are you crying, little dove?" Harry tried to smile reassuringly. He did not like people crying, he really did not, no matter which age. The girl sniffed pityingly and wiped her nose with a sleeve of her robe, while trying to catch her breath. Harry grimaced.

"Don't do that, sweetheart." Harry gave a slightly crinkled Muggle handkerchief made of cellulose and waited a moment for her to calm down a bit. He looked around the girl to see where Hagrid with the other first years was and sighed. Harry could not quite see the lake and the boats from his position, but he heard – or more like felt – the magic working when the boats took off. Hagrid must have missed a head count.

"I… I have lost… I have lost Ginia!" Tears welled up in her eyes.

"Your friend?" Harry frowned.

"N-no. M-my… doll." A hiccup shook her body and Harry found himself reminded of Hermione not too long ago. He shuddered.

"I got her from my grand aunt this summer. She is m-magical and I… I named her after my b-brother's girlfriend." Now that was a surprise, but Harry hid it well.

"I'm certain Ginia will be safe with your baggage. Surely they'll bring her along with it after you're sorted." Harry was relieved that he had not run – or had not been run – Into a bigger problem. "You'll have to come with us, I fear. Your future classmates are gone already."

"But I can't leave her!" She cried, unbelieving that Harry could even make such a suggestion. However, she did not seem to care much for the lost boat trip. She looked at him filled with indignation, and Harry saw the tears gathering again.

"Well." Harry braced his hands against the thighs and sighed. "Then we'll have to find her, won't we?" They were already late, a bit more would not matter now. The radiating happiness in the little one's face was well worth the trouble.

"But don't cry, sweetheart." Harry warned with a raised finger. "I'm sure we'll find your Ginia." She nodded eagerly, tears forgotten.

"Hey, Ron?" Harry pointed at the small girl. "I believe she is your territory."

"Oh? Why?" The redhead did not even look, occupied to hide the last of his chocolate frogs in anticipation of a future encounter with an all too eager Seamus at the feast.

"She's searching for her doll Ginia." Harry shared his knowledge with a smile, "The doll's named after the girlfriend of her brother." He said with a look to the girl when Ron did not catch up at once.

"Oh!" Ron whirled around, and at his yell Hermione looked questioningly out of the waiting carriage. Neither Ron nor Harry bothered about her request for a bit of haste. They were the last one's still at the station. All of the other carriages already passed their field of vision and had vanished behind a wall of trees. Could not anything happen in an average way? Harry sighed.

Ron seemed a bit lost with the girl, so Harry took her hand and threw a casual glance back at Hermione. He could not just summon the doll, so he should let Hermione do it. His eyes narrowed. She would ask why he did not do it himself, and obviously she did not think of it herself as lost in her own world as she was at the moment. How thoughtless of her. Where was her mind? Harry frowned. She was probably preoccupied thinking about the happenings during the train ride. Harry wrinkled his nose and stepped up to the Thestrals. He patted the nearest one and wished silently that they would wait for them. He still could not get rid of the feeling that something was missing. He blinked and turned his attention back toward the task at hand.

"Well, little dove." Somehow Harry thought the name fitting. "Let's go looking for Ginia."

They hastened back to the train, Ron a bit slow to catch up, and for the first time Harry could see the trunks floating out of the train in a straight line before they disappeared with a soft pop when air filled the place they had occupied. It was a funny sight and the girl giggled wide eyed, despite her lost doll. After a moment Harry pulled her with him.

"Come, dove, we have to hurry." Harry hastened further, trusting Ron to come along on his own.

"We'll be really late, mate." Ron wheezed.

"And I care why?" Harry shrugged. It was not a firsts time that they ignored school rules. "At least this time it's not our fault."

"Ha, yeah." Ron grinned down at the curious blinking girl. "But Snape will probably turn it around and say we have kidnapped her or something." Harry shook his head. During the day he had become accustomed to Snape's magical aura. He could still feel him in near vicinity, even if he had not discovered his nook until now. Harry was just going to open his mouth to shut Ron up, when a cold voice made itself known, and the temperature seemed to drop a few degrees.

"You think so, Mr. Weasley?" Ron flinched unconsciously, and the girl let out a terrified cry and pressed closer to Harry, hiding behind him. Harry rolled his eyes. What an appearance just to impress a little first year. At least now it was safe to assume that the girl would not get sorted into Slytherin as Ron surely took over the task to inform her, whose head of house the Potions Master was. Watching Ron stutter an apology to a man he would rather throttle to death was hilarious, but Harry felt his friend building up a temper and he winced barely audible when the magic crackled. Snape jerked around.

"You have something to say, Potter?" Harry straightened and tried to look awake.

"We were just looking for some of her possessions she had missed to pack in her trunk, sir." Harry said rather neutrally.

"Why so apprehensive to use your magic, Potter?" The man managed to make it sound as if Harry was a squib. Harry could hear Ron gritting his teeth, but Harry smiled pleasantly as though Snape had paid him a compliment, and hoped his friend would keep quiet.

"We're not allowed to do magic outside of classes, Professor." Harry reminded him sweetly, displaying utmost respect for his elders. Just barely, Harry refrained from adding some sarcastic comment. He tried hard to stay in his role as much as possible. However, Harry probably would have already changed insults with Snape, had the man come up behind him in that way a year ago.

"Hurry, Potter." Snape snarled at him, his expression one of contempt.


	16. Chapter 15 : Going Home

**Title:** Harry Potter and the Summer's Secret

_**Author:** Japhu _

_**Pairing:** HPSS_

_**Rating:** R_

_**Disclaimer:** I own nothing of Harry Potter and his world and don't make any money with it._

_**Summary:** For one week in summer Harry disappears without trace. When he comes back he claims to have no memory. But something happened and it changed him. It remains to be seen if for the better or the worse. (will be HPSS)_

_**Category:** action/adventure/angst_

_**Feedback:** highly appreciated_

* * *

**Chapter 15 – Going Home**

Harry blinked. Did he just hear that? He could not have been more surprised if Snape had announced to be best friends with Lupin. Had the git really just beckoned them away? No taking of points? No insults? Curious. Harry shifted. What was going on in the greasy head of his? He blinked when Ron pulled him towards the train, now and then throwing a cautious glance backwards. Only when the redhead thought them a safe distance away from the scowling Potions Master he bend his head down to Harry's ear.

"Is it just me," he whispered unaware of a Potions Master's accute hearing, "or was he waiting for us to show up."

"Yep," Harry snorted, certain to be heard by more people than his friend. "His big nose is everywhere – always lurking in the darkest corners. Pity, he seems to lack an own life." Harry pried his robe free from the girls clasping hands and winked at her. She looked wide eyed up to him but did not say anything, though, she glanced anxiously back. Her curls jumped wildly with the slightest movement of her head. Harry smiled reassuringly. He needed not to look for what she was watching out.

"No worry, little one. A barking dog doesn't bite." The girl blinked with a doubtful expression on her face, clearly fidgeting to get back her darling doll. Sighing, Harry pointed to the train.

"Do you think that you can you find your compartment on your own, then Ron and I will look if we see your Ginia somewhere in the passageway."

"Yes." With an eager nod the girl rushed forward, nearly running over Ron and pulling Harry, whose hand she seemed not to want to release anytime soon, with her.

"Not so fast, little dove, we don't want to fall down the stairs, do we?" Harry shook his head, his breathing becoming ragged.

"Now, little dove," Harry turned to the girl when his heart was beating normally again, "run to your compartment and look if she's still there, but don't be sad when not. Probably they have taken her already with the luggage." But the girl was already gone with a bright, hopeful smile, running like a dervish through the empty wagon.

Harry was relieved to see her going on her own, as he would need a bit more time to enter the train again. Harry began to feel like an old man only half a step away from death. Every move hurt and black dots danced in front of his eyes when he climbed the stairs to the wagon. In the train itself the magic seemed to reach only a lower level, as Harry found it suddenly easier to maintain the control – not much, but a relief, nevertheless.

Harry blinked away the dizziness and waited impatiently for the ill feeling to pass. He felt close to vomiting all over his friend, but as always Ron was totally ignorant. Harry examined him with a reserved look, hoping he did not look particularly green around the nose.

Then he took a deep breath and looked closer at the train, which was surrounded with layers of protective magic and other spells Harry did not know – but some were probably cast to keep the train moving. Perhaps those spells were what locked out some of the wild magic of this land's particular nature. The train was enchanted with incredible accuracy, and just enough for Harry to stay on his feet. Harry wished he could accomplish something like that. It required a lot of control and a keen knowledge of one's own breaking point.

"I can't remember her brother being that… lively and emotional." Ron prattled on and shook his head, clearly taken by surprise.

"He's not eleven, is he?" Harry risked a look out of the window, as they went down the passageway. "And he isn't going to live in a place where he had never been before, all on his own." Harry glanced out of the next window he passed. His eyes narrowed as he watched the motionless Potions Master, who stood on the empty station with his arms crossed. Harry smiled grimly. He had known the man was there. Soundlessly, Harry followed his friend. Ron carelessly opened and closed doors to different compartments, not even looking if a toy was laying on the seats.

"Yeah," he conceded. "But I really hope she's not going to be sorted into Gryffindor."

"You would have your hands full, I can say." Grinning, Harry yawned and glanced out again, out of the corner of his eye watching Ron eyeing him with a pondering glance.

"She seemed to like you." The youngest Weasley-son sounded almost happily bored, but Harry caught on instantly.

"Oh, no!" Harry shook his head vehemently. "I don't think so, Ron! You're the one, who got all the chocolate frogs, remember?" Still looking out of the window, his eyes widened before narrowing to slits.

Should that melonhead of DADA teacher not guard the other carriages? What was he still doing here – and talking with Snape? At least the colorful fool was talking – Snape steadfastly ignored him as he had done for the whole day, if one turned a blind eye on the insult marathon at King's Cross. His face clear of emotions but inquiring, Harry blew a straying strand of hair out of his face and concentrated, with a dark, assessing look of his own, on the Potions Master.

That the man was practically bound to him by body and soul did not help much to puzzle the bastardout. However, Harry could feel annoyance and fury and something like wry amusement through the mark. Of course, the emotions could easily come from anyone of the Death Eaters bound to him. Harry had no experience in handling this magical… gift. Come to that was that the man's aura, which Harry could see blazing, was just as helpful. In the color of an overripe eggplant, with a few tiny specks of red, black was the dominating color. Harry did not know what he should think about that. He had not seen anyone with an aura as dark as Snape's. It was not that black was a bad color, it was just unusual as most people's magic varied between yellow and red.

Harry blinked and closed his eyes for a moment. The headache grew rapidly worse. He should not think so much. Honestly, Harry just wanted to curl himself up in a dark corner to get a moment of peace and to indulge in his pain and exhaustion – and to find a way to survive the castle's magic.

With obvious relief Harry smiled tiredly when the girl came back surprisingly quick, hugging a small, auburn-haired doll like a life line, a grateful smile on her face when she looked at him.

It took a load off his mind to get this one problem out of the world, and at least one person was happy. Harry took a wary step down the stairs a second time. His look wandered to where the carriage was waiting. Hermione strode impatiently up and down, and the Thestrals restlessly threw their heads into the air. He stopped abruptly in the middle of a step and felt the blood rush to his head. He knew what had left him disturbed about the Thestrals.

The Thestrals looked indeed as normal as they had done when Harry had last seen them at the end of his fifth year – a time when he had not been able to see magic, a time when the grass still had been green not glowing in warm yellow light, when the stones were of a simple grey and not of continuously changing colors. As the Thestrals stood there, they didn not have a magical aura. They were dead to the world of magic, really dead, because everything was filled with this buzzing energy, everything was glowing with magic – except them.

"Harry?" Transfixed Harry stared to the dark, skeletal creatures. It could not be possible, could it? His forehead wrinkled in thought. Did some magic exist that was hidden from his eyes? Could it be invisible? Really transparent?

Only since he had watched Cedric die, Harry was able to see the Thestrals, so maybe the winged horses held it the same way with their magic? How many would he have to watch dying? Five? A dozen? A hundred? Perhaps it was something else that kept the magic hidden? Or was there any? Harry shook his head. Of course there was. The Thestrals were magical beasts, and even if not – there had to be at least the energy of life force. Even when a necromancer called a corpse back to life there had to be something to keep it moving. Thought after thought hastened through in Harry's mind, his concentration totally focused on the new riddle.

If Harry had paid more attention to his friend, he would have seen Ron swallowing apprehensively when the dark imposing figure of Snape descended upon them – his appearance only slightly less formidable because one crazily clothed DADA teacher followed him an inch away with a mad twinkle in his eye and despite the low grumble that emitted gutturally out of the dark robed, menacingly forward striding wizard – or maybe it was because of it.

With a keen sense of foreboding Severus Snape had been waiting outside of the train. Even if he did not take Potter's summer story into account, something definitely did not add up with the boy; and the Potions Master and spy was not one to let pass a riddle if it knocked at his door. Yet, it was not just the boys attitude that had changed, there was more going on. Severus was sure that sooner or later he would get to the bottom of the mystery Potter surrounded himself with. He would get the others to see that their wretched figurehead of the war was nothing but a stupid, irresponsible whelp.

During the train ride it had been surprisingly quiet around the boy. Severus would have thought Potter to go out and tell the story of his adventures with all the flowery details. He smirked. The little Slytherin menace clearly had bestowed a visit to the brat. And the haste with which his retreat had played out seemed to indicate that the Potter-whelp had once again come out of their encounter atop.

Severus fully supported his Slytherin students in their… freetime activities. He had nothing against a few well aimed pranks… well, attacks even – of course only as long as they did not end lethal for any of the participating parties. He could understand an orderly retreat when such an attack failed – nothing over one's own survival – but young Malfoy did not show the rudiment of cunning the House was known for, and with which he prided himself with.

It was a shame for one of his Slytherins to behave that thoughtless and cowardly, every time riding high on emotions like a Gryffindor without thought to consider the consequences – or even the viability of the attack – beforehand. The worst was, that, as much encounters as he had had with Potter over the years, young Malfoy was apparently unable to learn anything, and it would break the boy's neck if nothing drastic happened really soon to open his eyes. Totally surrounded by yes-men, and everybody running to fulfill his every whim, young Malfoy thought himself to be special, worthier than other people and thus found himself confirmed in his arrogant and careless attitude. In this respect young Malfoy was as spoiled as Potter, but the Slytherin had manners drummed into him by a strict advocate of Wizarding aristocracy, and at least he had heard of things like decorum.

Potter's offspring had the almighty headmaster of Hogwarts, and one only needed to look at the clothes the old man preferred to know that nothing good could come out of that. Oh, Severus liked the old man more than anyone else – that did not say much of course, as he did not really like anyone; but when one mentioned Potter in the headmaster's hearing range the lemon drop addict only became crazier.

With a disgusted sneer the Potions Master went on observing, his wide strides directed to the Gryffindor boys – one oblivious, the other staring intently. Only this time they had reversed roles. Something seemed to occupy all of Potter's concentration, for the boy – otherwise the first one to notice his approach – was staring at… the carriage? Severus quickly followed the intense look and furrowed his brows, blind to anything peculiar the idiot boy seemed to have found worth fretting over.

When the train had stopped Severus had been fast to get the students out of the wagons he had to guard. This way there was left enough time to keep an eye on the stupid child while the last students were rushing to the carriages. Naturally, the ingrate had made them wait for him. Wondering were the boy had lingered, Severus had grown impatient. He had been on the verge to haul the boy out himself and was taken by surprise when he watched the Potter-brat nearly falling over his own feet the moment he had warily stepped down the stairs and onto the station – a waxen expression on his face that clearly could not be healthy.

Had young Malfoy finally scored once in his life or did that idiot Gryffindor not know restraint and had stuffed himself with to much sweets? Admittedly, he would not be the only student doing so, quite a few visited the toilet in a rush every year, but Potter should have more sense of appearance. Possibly it was the latter, otherwise the gossip would have reached them already. Scowling, the Potions Master would have liked to reprimand the boy for his lazy attitude, perhaps taking a few points under way; but the headmaster had blocked that bridge before he had even thought about crossing it.

"Leave the boy in peace, Severus," he had said with that cheerful, mad twinkle in his eyes. "I want to talk to him first without you having fired his temper up." Leglimens he was, Severus had held himself back with astounding restraint, surprising even himself. He had contented himself to try and catch some stray thought that could help solving riddle that ignorant Potter-boy posed. However, he had to admit to have slackened the rein of his order a bit when he had found the impossible child nosing around the forbidden parts of Diagon Alley. He had bitten his tongue to not say anything… hurtful, nevertheless. Severus sneered. Only Albus could get him to do something like that… and for Potter, nonetheless.

Severus watched the idiot Gryffindor when he stood like frozen on the last step. The first year at his side looked frightened up to the boy, obviously already lulled into believing that Potter was the high and mighty saviour. Severus scowled. He could not care less, whether the pitiful Hufflepuff of a child had found its toy or not; but Albus would have his head should something happen to his precious boy.

The dark, opaque gaze fixed on the too small figure of the Potter-boy, Severus could not stop thinking about him. Until now that ingrate child had been surprisingly self-contained – with words and thoughts alike. Maybe the air was worn a bit thin were Potter usually looked down from his pedestal. Had the boy finally stepped down long enough to think about the consequences of his doings? Severus sneered. The idiot Gryffindor was probably only trying to make his story sound important before he went selling it to his sidekicks. Gryffindors were not prone to hold secrets for longer than it took them to get enough breath to talk.

Then there was the little fact that Potter had not worked one spell during the day, not even to fight off young Malfoy. Potter had to be the only Hogwarts' student – save some clueless first years – who had not used the time during the train ride to experiment a bit with his magic. Strictly speaking, Potter had been right. It was forbidden for students, but this matter had not held the boy back at other times, and no one cared about it anyway.

It was the first time after weeks when the students got a grip on their wands. Of course they would use them. Parents and ministry knew as well as the teachers and Albus. It had been like this when Severus himself had been a… well, less wise – ever since students rode with the train. That was one of the reasons for the lots of magic woven into the train. Potter, though, had refrained from using magic. Had these Muggles left him that high in the clouds that he did not think of a simple Accio to summon the toy? Severus gritted his teeth.

When he was merely a few feet away Potter acknowledged him with a stupid blink of his eyes, looking dazed for a moment and confused.

"Can't be bothered to hurry, can you, Potter? Thinking that the headmaster will postpone the feast until you deem them worthy of your presence, boy?" Severus sneered contemptuously. His expression was guarded when he felt his way to the boy's mind, using his Leglimency skill ever so cautiously. Even during the last year Potter had been fast to notice even the slightest probing of another's mind – well, as long as it had not been the Dark Lord.

The Weasley-boy growled in anger, and Severus noted with some surprise that the temper ridden redhead was only half a head smaller then he. His glacial expression turned to the other balefully staring boy, who was, to his relief, still nothing more than a wren among hawks. Severus would hate to loose the advantage of staring down the whelp. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. The boy did not seem to hold a conscious barrier around his mind as he had managed to erect from time to time during the last few sessions.

"That will be twenty points from Gryffindor for your impertinence to think that everyone has to dance to your piping." Severus was highly aware of the looks he received. Potter's sidekick seemed only an inch from getting a detention. That temper would get him into trouble at one time.

"The school year hasn't even begun, yet!" the Weasley's boy revolted, defending his silent friend with all his heart.

"Full of meanings today, Mr. Weasley, aren't we?" Severus smirked. "But you actually had a thought worth to let others know." He turned to the still silently watching ebony-haired boy. "I think we'll have to stack the minus points up until Gryffindor is ready to go in to the negative after the feast, won't we, Potter?"

"But my dear friend!" A new voice interrupted before Harry could even think of an answer that fitted the question. "Don't be so hard on them." The new teacher admonished. "I'm sure they had good reasons. Isn't that the case, my boys?" Severus had been well aware that the bumbling idiot of teacher tried creeping up to him. As if that shuffling fool could surprise anyone with his noisy approach. His eyes narrowed.

Severus had watched him watching Potter, as the boy had climbed the train with some difficulties. It did not go well with him that the newest fool's spawn of Dumbledore was observing the boy with a disquieting, intense gaze that made hair in his neck stand on end and his body grow rigid with tension. In that look was nothing innocent or curious. Severus would have liked to tell Albus what he thought of him hiring that twisted wizard, but when he thought about it, he had already done so more than once during the countless staff meetings in summer. With a satisfied smirk Severus remembered one particular encounter. Not everything had gone to Albus' delight. Once even the headmaster had seemed ready to throw that clown out of the window. Severus would rub that fact in whenever he met up with the old man.

"What are you staring at, Bradarowicz?" The way he spoke Severus definitely thought the name to be the biggest insult one could bestow that man with. He turned to the fool with a calm voice, which for perceptive people held a dangerous undertone. "Don't you have to do something?"

"What, dear colleague, could that be?" The man had the gall to smile at him.

"Go and guard the carriages – the front – I'll make sure these dunderheads don't get lost." Severus would not take a no for answer. His gaze promised dire consequences.

"But Seve—" At the Potions Master's rigid posture the wizard cleared his throat. "They are already too far,… Professor Snape," he whined. The last words sounded as if he had swallowed a glass of sour milk.

"Have you not heard of the possibility to apparate to your preferred whereabouts, Bradarowicz?" he asked without a hint of what was going on behind the powdered forehead, his eyebrow arched inquisitively. "I'd suggest you do that now." He growled when the man started a voluble excuse, and interrupted him with a gesture. One time soon Severus would lock that man up in a dungeon and have a serious word with him. The new addition to staff made his blood boil even more than… well, at least just as Potter. He stopped his peculiar thought pattern and turned his attention to the present.

Potter's mind was marked off perfectly. No nook, no opening, nothing to make a start to invade the boy's thoughts. Evidently the boy had de facto learnt something and, whatever it was he was doing, it worked. The boy should not have been able to achieve a feat like that during his vacation.

"Have you gotten enough attention already, Potter?" Severus sneered, angry at himself for not being able to find a fault in the boys shields. For a moment the boy seemed confused to what he was refering, but then something seemed to click and his eyes narrowed.

"No sir," Potter bit out, not even trying to sound respectful. "I think I need a bit more. May we go on to the feast?" His eyes flashed with suppressed emotions. "I'm hopeful that I'll get enough attention to last me for the evening, sir." With that Harry turned around and left the Potions Master standing – for a second time this day, albeit now with much less fervor and more thoughts about where to put his feet. Deeply impressed, Ron stared at his friend and suppressed a grin. His eyes carried the amusement for everyone to see, though. He hurried to follow Harry's lead to let the wingless bat remain at the station.

"Is he angry?" a quiet voice asked cautiously, and Ron looked down to the forgotten first year.

"Yeah." The redhead announced passionately with heartfelt satisfaction when Harry stayed silent, but he took pity on the girl as her look became quite fearful and she looked back every few steps to see if he followed. Ron hesitated only an instant before he gave her one of the last, dearly loved chocolate frogs out of his pocket. He gazed longingly at it, his glance doubtfully directed to the quietly following girl. She took the chocolate wide eyed and smiling, but Ron was unsure if the child appreciated his sacrifice.

Harry's lips twitched. He could practically feel Snape's distaste when Ron gave her that squished chocolate frog. The silently seething man was still watching them. Harry could feel the eyes piercing the back of his head while they were busy taking care of the girl, a Muggleborn probably, because she was way too curious for someone raised in a Wizarding family.

"Enjoy." Ron said with a regretful grin before turning to his friend, who seemed to act a bit funny today. Ron looked worried for an instant. Maybe the Dursleys had egged on him more than Harry let on? His mind eased when he spotted Hermione ahead. She would know what to do. Ron followed another train of thoughts.

"He could have helped," he muttered with a low grumble erupting from his stomach. "Now we'll probably miss the feast, because of a… doll." Ron glanced down to the girl and grimaced.

"Yep." Harry blinked until the blackness crept back from his field of vision. "He could have summoned the doll. That would have been the fastest."

"Or we could have." Ron thought aloud.

"Of course, if we had thought of it. I'm still somewhat in the Muggle world with my spirits." Harry patted the redhead on the back. "What's your excuse?" Ron mumbled something incoherently and Harry smiled indulgently.

"Either way," Harry shrugged, "Snape was waiting for us. He would have taken more points than we could possibly win during the year had he seen us using magic."

"I'm glad that he isn't our head of house." Ron shuddered. "He would surely use every excuse he could get to expel us better soon than late." Harry heaved a sigh when they finally reached the carriage. His voice had a slight tremor in it when he turned to the girl.

"Hop in." Harry coughed and helped her to get into the shaky construction, the Thestrals already sidling about. Harry did not look back once to see what the Potions Master was doing. Harry relaxed when he heard the faint pop that indicated the apparition, but already he could sense the Potions Master far away, and they were approaching steadily. He could feel it in the magic and through the mark's bond that suddenly grew fainter when Snape apparated to the gates of Hogwarts as soon as the carriage set into motion. Harry snorted. Snape would stand in just another dark corner to watch them until they had made their way into the protection wards of the ancient castle.

Their short journey with the carriage passed in a blur for Harry. He leant back and tried to find a rhythm that made breathing and magic work together. Remotely he listened to Ron telling stories to the little girl about Snape being a vampire bat to which he turned back every night to suck blood from unsuspecting students that were out after curfew.

Harry ignored Hermione's nagging about their delay with the ease of someone who did something like that on a regular basis. He was too busy keeping his consciousness. When a small hand pulled at his sleeve Harry had not even enough strength to yawn. He had to steady himself at the carriage's wall while being pulled forward from an awestruck first year, who got her fist look at the castle.

"You take her, Hermione. I'm too tired to run now." Harry handed the girl, whose head was dangerously bend so that she could even see the highest tower of Hogwarts castle, over to his friend. Distressed, Hermione looked as if she did not want to leave him for an instant, before she simply nodded and urged him to hurry, nevertheless. She took the girl's hand tightly into her own and shoved her unceremoniously to Ron, who made a race with her to the great hall upon Hermione's shoeing noises. She followed on their feet, not wanting to loose points at the first day of school.

Harry heaved a sigh of relief when they were gone and went in a much moe slowly through the gates, and the moment he stepped on to the ground of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry he found himself tiredly smiling the first genuine smile in a long time. Harry's eyes brightened noticeably. His whole face seemed to radiate happiness. Finally, Harry thought, he was finally home. He entered Hogwarts Castle with steps as light as a feather.


	17. Chapter 16 : Unforeseen Welcome

**Title:** Harry Potter and the Summer's Secret

_**Author:** Japhu _

_**Pairing:** HPSS_

_**Rating:** R_

_**Disclaimer:** I own nothing of Harry Potter and his world and don't make any money with it._

_**Summary:** For one week in summer Harry disappears without trace. When he comes back he claims to have no memory. But something happened and it changed him. It remains to be seen if for the better or the worse. (will be HPSS)_

_**Category:** action/adventure/angst_

_**Feedback:** highly appreciated_

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**Chapter 16 – Unforeseen Welcome**

The castle of Hogwarts was one of the achievements of the mankind that deserved to be called an ancient treasure. Built at a time when the training of children had lain mostly in their parents' responsibility, and when a knife plunged into the back was a common death, it had been witness to the rise and fall of nations behind and in front of its walls. It had been refuge to wizards of all kinds in times of war and freedom alike, and it gave their descendants a better sense of life, if they had enough awareness to listen to its whispering.

Unfortunately, or perhaps luckily, there never had been many open-minded people with an awake enough mind to see that Hogwarts was more than a building of stone, because even the smallest grain of sand that had found its use in the process of erecting this masterpiece of architecture for future generations was filled with interwoven magic to serve a cause not even legends told of anymore.

The castle was by no means a living creature as humankind and every other intelligent species would define it, but it had, one could say, personality – always aware who and what crossed its halls, always watching, always waiting for the time to come to use its powers again. Functioning exclusively on a guttural, almost instinctive level of magic, Hogwarts did not recognize faces or voices. It was not aware things like humans even existed, because either something had magic and the castle knew it, or it had not and was of no importance for its existence. The castle did ot distinguish between one magical core and another, though, it recognized separate persons and their intentions like letters on a page as it could read magic like an open book.

The castle's world consisted of magic, solely of magic. Humans and animals alike were nothing more than moving center points of clusters of magic, kept apart through their pure strength and small, regularly recurring waves of energy or, less often, short outbursts of tremendous strength – a less analyzing human mind would call those emotions, although only strong one's could cause outbursts powerful enough to hold the castle's attention.

It did not know the difference between children and adults, but it knew that with time some of the uncountable magical cores gathered more and wilder energy to built up a much stronger core than others, and of those it never let go completely – always kept watching, waiting if they would come back, waiting to see what they would do, if they realized its powers.

Some of those coming back had tried to use Hogwarts against their enemies, and sometimes the castle had helped them to amuse itself when their intentions were true enough. Some others had fled, coming face to face with its powers and their own weaknesses, and a few had perished, because they had been to dangerous to let them go elsewhere. They had died agonizingly slow in the dungeons or in an unused part of the castle for lack of water and food. They had died never knowing they did, because their life's force – or inner core as it was called now – was sucked out as fast as a fire devoured a piece of paper. (This way Hogwarts had made its own ghost, a haggard lady in her mid forties, long since banished from the grounds and now plaguing an old forest were none would set their feet ever.) Once or twice some crazy minded fool had come across its walls, feeling pure bliss while slowly loosing identity and life to the castle they sought to own and use for their own needs, never once asking what the builders might have aimed at with such an breathtaking piece of human creativity. A few of them simply vanished into the walls and were never seen again.

It sounded ruthless and maybe it was in human eyes, but Hogwarts did not have a conscience of good and bad, though, even if its builders had left their legacy to the humankind with a conscience, it still would have said that a dozen or twenty deaths in more than a thousand years were not too much to hold safe what it was made to do. Everything had been justified by its builders and the castle did not ask why or what – it just did, and it did well. Hogwarts had never failed when it came to know what was good for it. It knew how to preserve itself. Every threat for the castle's future had to be eliminated.

The stones did not count years or centuries. Time had no meaning for the castle, because it never stopped what it was doing as long as magic existed in this world and only one stone of its walls was pulsing with the Earth's magical core itself. The castle always knew what was going on around its walls, though, throughout the centuries most of its presence had been asleep like a dragon of stone, only to be awaken when a glimmer of magic warmed its lids and a scent of danger brushed its nostrils.

A part of Hogwarts – an important part – that was not needed to keep the enormous flow of magic circulating, was continuously set to search for what its builders had wanted to find desperately, even beyond the limits of time when they themselves would long be nothing more than dust in the wind and only the castle would be left to hold true for what most of them had given their lives trying to achieve. Hogwarts was searching for only One to fulfill its builders needs, to take over their task with its assistance – if wanted or not. The castle did not know of compromises to find through times gone and times to come what would take its task to the next stage.

For a long time, longer than a man's descendants would remember his name, Hogwarts had been asleep when something as incredibly old as the castle itself – and older still – touched its grounds and called out to it unknowingly, thus awakening the whole of Hogwarts Castle, which had not happened for years. With a low grumble and a barely noticeable shuddering of stone the castle took all its attention to the one who had called.

It was a call Harry knew nothing about when he stepped into the whirlpool of magic that made his teeth ache. All he was aware of was the fact that he had to master the magic of this place. He breathed deeply. Something about the castle's magic was as foreign as a humming bird in Alaska. It seemed richer of essence, of awareness. It was the castle's own magic that nearly overloaded him with energy and left him dizzy with never known happiness; but it was the castle's magic too, that made the boy's heart racing and left him barely able to keep his legs steady. His breath shallow, Harry managed in the last possible moment to numbly stumble to the nearest wall to prevent a sudden fall, completely clueless of a certain school's history and foremost task.

Long ago the castle had begun to search for old magic, and now that it had come and listened to the castle's whispering. Hogwarts was vibrating with piled up energy. It was a possibility opened up again for the castle to fulfill one of the most important tasks it had to follow from the magic that was woven into its stones. What had set foot through its gate was strong, pure and the only one to recognize Hogwarts for something greater.

Slowly assessing the incredible strong but mostly wild cluster of magic, the castle knew that it had found what it had been built to search for; but in all its existence it never had come across someone, whose intentions it could not read. It was ready to meet certain requirements before starting on its true task, nevertheless, as the One stepped through its doors and both came to an abrupt halt – as if time stood still – when a hand came into direct contact with Hogwarts' walls and the castle could finally read what was driving the astounding bit of energy together.

When Harry touched the stones for the first time after he stepped through the doors it was as if a bulldozer of magic was rolling over him and turning his insides out. Harry's hand seemed like glued to the wall. The sensation felt like poking his fingers into a socket and instead of a few hundred volts he got thousands of it. It was a nasty shock and his corporate proximity to the castle only multiplied to everything.

The magic Harry had tried so much to control all the way nearly slipped his mind and abilities and left him gasping and panting for breath. He was unable to do anything. It took all he had to just hold on and endure whatever it was the castle was doing. He hoped that it would stop rather sooner than later. Harry pressed his eyes together tightly and an unconscious yell worked its way up his throat and escaped in a painfully suppressed moan. The quiet presence of Tom was frantically running against the barriers Harry had built with utmost care to prevent him breaking through. His half-hearted attempt to prevent the unfamiliar probing was brushed off with easiness.

Hogwarts took its time to analyze what had taken it – not by surprise but curiosity. It was a new riddle that deserved its whole concentration. Hidden behind a layer of magic as strong as little else the castle had observed it found deceit and hate, mixed with complete bewilderment that rapidly changed into fear. Just as suddenly all of that was gone again and only a vague impression of awed wondering stayed amidst something that only could be described as amusement and the castle had not had much of that directed at itself.

However, more important was Hogwarts' recognition of something else. Despite of anger at something or other deep within this different magical core and an uncertainty about the rightness of its doing, it went on gathering magic to follow its chosen path with determination, and if not for all the right reasons its intentions were true and came form the depth of its life force. It would be the one force Hogwarts was built to bond, but there still was deceit and hate. There was only one possiblity a core could be devided and that was when actually two magical cores were interwoven with each other for only a small but decisive part. The castle could not bond itself to something like that – mostly right, but sometimes as bad as it could get.

Hogwarts did not let itself be disturbed by anything while it further analyzed what sought to live under its towers. Nearly of the same strength, the cores' real powers lay in different areas and only one of them was able to use the old magic. Hogwarts did not have to read much to know that an continuous fight for dominance was going on, a fight Hogwarts had no right to decide for its own needs, because until now the cluster had not done a thing to warrant the castle's intervention, but all of that complicated things.

How could two magical cores exist this way without devouring each other and merging to something greater, more dangerous? Magic had its own way to work and such things had happened in the past more than once. It was unknown that a process of merging had started without being finished. Magic tried constantly to pull itself together. There was a reason that one magical core was never far away from another. Hogwarts urged its magic forward until it found the darker core squirming under its watchful gaze, nearly breaking the barriers that held the hidden core back so much that even Hogwarts had not realized its existence until the One had touched the stone of the castle itself. Hogwarts had no premises to interfere, but it did not want the one hidden to take over, and it did not want the magical, albeit natural process of merging to complete itself with time passing and to taint what was its own to take.

The castle was searching for something in his magic. Harry felt its probing and prodding, dozens of millipedes crawled their way like magical fingers over his body to find a way inside, where they started hammering against his mind's walls as if wanting to break him.

Harry had reckoned with Tom. If one thing was sure it was Tom's habit to claim his attention when Harry had to maintain his concentration elsewhere. Harry had reckoned with the castle and its magic as well, but nothing could have him prepared for that. Bracing himself on his knees, it took all his might to concentrate on the castle and survive its assault with all parts functioning. Harry would have lain unconscious long since if he had not had at least an inkling of what was going on, but perhaps, if he had been completely unaware, the castle would have left him on his own.

Drops of perspiration stood on his forehead when Harry tried to get the disquieting feeling of not really harmless magic washing over and through him to retreat. It was not pleasant or friendly – it was demanding and uncompromising. Then there was a slight easing of the pain justwhen Harry thought his head would burst into pieces. He did not imagine Hogwarts' magic to be less forceful than just moments ago, did he? Harry blinked and looked around wide eyed, still caught in a dream, as he could hear his friends and all of the other students as though they stood only inches away. For an instant he was aware of everything that went on behind Hogwarts' walls and he saw people from the castle's point of view like some colorful balls of energy.

"See, you are still on time. They've just begun with 'B'. Run!" Harry could feel Hermione giving the frightened girl a gentle push in the right direction when she urged the little one forward. He practically watched the child looking back once in uncertainty before it run through the great hall, red with embarrassment when she finally reached her future classmates. _Had they just run into the hall? Had not more time passed than a few moments?_

Harry knew exactly were every living being in Hogwarts was. He felt their heartbeats and their magic. He knew their fears and hopes. The life pulsing through their veins was like a softly humming song; but all of that was drowned by the castle itself. It probed, searched, watched and it was so filled with magic that it forced tears of joy into his eyes, because Hogwarts was brimming with life of its own. It was simple and true and warm and unbelievably powerful, and only the last one was what brought the pain.

Amidst the wonders he experienced Harry nearly forgot the splitting headache and the burning of his whole body until he thought about it. He knew that Hogwarts was intently observing everything what he did – and thought? With all the force he could manage Harry pulled his hand away from the stone. Strands of magic followed his hand, wavering lazily in a slight breeze of something Harry could not feel. The impressions he had gotten through Hogwarts' magic shut down abruptly. Harry stumbled, trying to catch himself with his arms stretched out, and found his upper arm gripped tightly. He knew without looking, whom the hand belonged to, because even as tired as he was now he could still recognize an aura he had seen before and he had gotten a good look with Hogwarts' magic.

"Thanks." Harry pressed out and frowned. "Shouldn't you be at the sorting?" He blinked and ignored the other one's probing look. Harry freed his arm and tried to hold enough attention on the other boy when he shook his head animatedly and made his face swimming in a bright orange-pink halo.

"Oh. I'm the last one to get sorted," he explained brightly. "Professor McGonagall let me go to the loo." The DADA teacher's son, now wearing a simple black robe, grinned sheepishly. "I was just on my way back when I saw you. Is everything alright with you?" Junas looked actually worried, but Harry was far from trusting. His thoughts were occupied with a castle that was much more aggressive than he had thought. So Harry just shook his head with a noncommittal wink and gathered his wits.

"I just… tripped over the border." Harry's voice sounded faint even in his own ears. He could not do one step, but straightened himself, nevertheless. _Merlin!_ It had been overpowering, the castle's presence still was, but Harry had not thought of the possibility that its magic would be that… aggressive. It had by no means stopped to send its magic out. It had just let off enough for Harry to be able to give his surroundings enough attention as to not come across like some drugged duffer. Well, that and the pain, which was lessening more and more every second to an almost bearable level. Harry still felt like his feet would lose its ground every moment. If he had had a warning Harry would have come more prepared – if that was even possible. Not once had he heard that someone mentioned Hogwarts'… identity.

The magic now surged through his body until every cell that vibrated with it was more reserved than before. However, everything seemed to be behind a haze of color. The castle's magic swirled around almost lazily, but the strongest Harry had ever seen. Of course, now that the castle – for whatever reasons – had taken its own raw magical power a few levels down, the color was possibly an addition of Harry's own magic. Only in an afterthought Harry caught on to the straying thought that the castle had had a lot of time to gather magic in its walls and around – it was ancient – but why did it come on him like that? Could it be Tom? The former dark lord had been aghast before becoming frantic. Now Harry found nothing of him, though he knew Tom still had to be there, because the barriers were not broken. Harry breathed deeply.

The door to the Great Hall was not that far away and he told himself that he could make it alright. He would figure out what had occurred here when he was more awake and capable to draw the right conclusions. He just had to come through the sorting and he could drop into bed.

Giving one last glance into the direction of Junas Bradarowicz, Harry winked at him to go on his way and made, without another word, step after step, pleased to know that he was doing alright, counting the fact that two pairs of eyes were following his every move, and the magic of Hogwarts was still surging through his body.


	18. Chapter 17 : Sorting Thoughts

**Title:** Harry Potter and the Summer's Secret

_**Author:** Japhu_

_**Beta Reader:** Chameleon_

_**Pairing:** HPSS_

_**Rating:** R_

_**Disclaimer:** I own nothing of Harry Potter and his world and don't make any money with it._

_**Summary:** For one week in summer Harry disappears without trace. When he comes back he claims to have no memory. But something happened and it changed him. It remains to be seen if for the better or the worse. (will be HPSS)_

_**Category:** action/adventure/angst_

_**Feedback:** highly appreciated_

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**Chapter 17 – Sorting Thoughts**

The black pair of eyes narrowed suspiciously when the Potter-boy left the Entrance Hall with unsteady steps. The youth was avoiding coming into contact with the castle's wall at all costs. The Potions Master's ability to see and recognize consciously worked magic, in the moment of spellcasting, had helped in a lot of dire situations. However, what he had seen just moments ago, he did not know. For just an instant it had seemed as if Potter had been surrounded by magic, but he knew the boy's magical signature. He had seen him cast spells during the last years.

The hidden man was a hundred percent certain Potter had not aimed a spell at someone. Perhaps, the self-absorbed brat had been a target? Although, there had not appeared to be anyone who could have cast a spell on the wrenched child, until the DADA teacher's progeny had trudged along. It had seemed painful for a moment, until the whelp had taken his hand off the wall he had stumbled against. Testing, the Potions Master put the palm of his hand against the cool stone while stepping out of the shadows. Nothing. Everything was as it should be; and the pink headed idiot still stood staring. The boy flinched back, when he became aware of him.

"Professor." Solemnity and surprise lay in the boy's voice. For some reason, the little Bradarowicz had been so absorbed in his thoughts; he had not heard the Potions Master stopping right next to him. Even though the man had not tried to sneak up on the child, not really, he would have fun with him later when the riddle around Potter was solved.

"Why are you standing here and staring holes into the air?" He bit out acidly. "Don't you have somewhere to be or shall I take points from your house to help you get going?" The boy bit his lip and blinked, then he just inclined his head, grinned stupidly and marched leisurely to the side entrance were he would be waiting until the first years were sorted. Severus Snape watched him avidly. He did not like the boy anymore than he liked the father. The father made the bile rise in his throat. For some reason the boy seemed worse, though, he could not have said why. He just wanted to smash their faces into the nearest wall. He scowled darkly. Only when the pink headed boy was gone did he move on. After all, the boy had not done anything that would have called his talents at work; though, his ability was not infallible, by any means. Only in the exact moment of spellcasting he was able to see the powers at work. Most spells take not even seconds to cast properly. It is rare and requires a lot of power to work spells, who's chanting takes minutes; like the one he had witnessed the crimson robed wizards doing.

Potter had a link to them too. Always, that whelp was somehow in the midst of trouble brewing, and never did he tell. In this trait, the Potter-boy was just too much like his father to think about the consequences of his doings. It gave him to think. What was the boy plotting now? Things were going on here that were anything but normal. It was not just the Potter-whelp who somehow seemed to have ended up in the midst of everything – again; and now had decided to play games with everyone. According to Dumbledore, all their lives depended on this irresponsible child. It was a disaster. With that thought, the Potions Master set into motion, striding ahead forcefully. He chose the shortest route to the head table. Snape arrived just in time to see the Potter boy dropping down heavily onto the bench between his two sidekicks, who looked suspiciously relieved at seeing him. Wretched brat!

Stupid git! After a fast glance upon his friends, Harry looked over to the head table were the dark figure of his Potions Master slid onto his place, throwing a suspicious look right back at him. It did not matter to Harry if Snape believed him or not, as long as anybody else was convinced he was telling the truth. Only Dumbledore would believe anything Snape had to say about Harry Potter. With Dumbledore, Harry would have to deal separately, nevertheless, because the old man did not buy anything he would tell without reading his mind to corroborate the truth.

Harry suppressed the more bitter thoughts and let his shoulders drop unconsciously. He received a few curious looks from friends and foes alike. But, he had learnt not to give much on others' opinions. Well, at least the Gryffindors seemed to have come to an understanding according to him. Whatever they had decided on, it was alright with him. Harry was not going to go around and ask what had been written in the papers about him during the last holidays and whether someone else's mother was convinced that he would lead them to doom.

"Sorry, I'm late." With difficulty Harry drew up a really friendly Gryffindor's face, smiled pleasantly around and blinked reassuringly at his friends' imploring looks. Nothing above a good mask to hide behind.

"You're not late." Seamus piped in after an uncomfortable moment of silence. "Ron and Hermione were late. You're later."

"Very funny, Seamus." Half-heartedly Harry grinned back, but took his dorm mate's words for the welcome they were. He ignored the searching looks of his friends and the glances the teachers threw at him, whenever they thought he would not notice. As far as he could see, most of them seemed really concerned for him. They should not be. It did not make things easier for him and he had to consider how to handle Dumbledore. Surely, the headmaster would invite him to lemon drops and tea soon. Everything else would have to solve itself in time.

Harry flexed his hands under the table to get the tingle of magic to dissipate or move on or whatever. He would not like to have to ask Hermione to feed him, because he could not feel his fingers anymore. It was still the castle's doing, and Harry could not imagine what the purpose was. It was a scary thought. To think that the castle had watched everything he had done throughout the years without him knowing. Did any of the others know that the castle was… there, in much more than the word itself implied? Did Dumbledore know? Snape? Sitting at his place and waiting for the first years to be sorted, Harry browsed through his head to verify the information he had gathered up to this point.

At first, Voldemort tried to better him – again. His magic had changed into something he had trouble controlling, most of the time. Tom got somehow trapped in his mind. Red or golden robed men were suddenly popping out everywhere who, for some reason, Tom seemed to believe were helping him. Well, the way they had come on him in Diagon Alley heightened the impression that they obviously were not assisting Harry to get rid of his head guest. Harry had tuned out everyone completely and continued his processing.

Voldemort was nearer to death then ever before. However, Harry hesitated to do the last step, the final one, the one which would free the world of the Dark Lord entirely and forever. Harry did not know if he could make it work. He knew what sacrifice was necessary. He was not sure whether or not he could do it. When he looked up to his animatedly whispering friends, he briefly asked himself if he would ever be ready to do it, whether or not he could be at all… Despite all of the last year's events, Sirius' death and that damn prophecy, Harry clung to his life – just like everyone else surrounding him.

Gloomily, Harry turned his attention back to the sorting. Although he had missed the beginning, there were still quite a few new students to be sorted. One of them – hiding at the far end – wore, under his dark Hogwarts robes, the bright orange boots their possible DADA teacher showed openly. Harry scoffed inwardly. Obviously, the boy would be sorted into Gryffindor, for one had to be exceptionally brave to dare himself into public with an outfit like that. A loud voice broke through his thought pattern.

Harry turned questioningly to Seamus who was shrilly informing them that now his cousins were to be sorted. Whoo! Harry tried to look excited and followed the pointed finger to the front. One sandy haired girl, with bright blue eyes, stood excitedly between the students. She was clapping her hands like mad while another first year's head vanished under the Sorting Hat. They looked like twins. However, if one believed Seamus, who should know what he was talking about, Oonagh was twelve already. She should have been at Hogwarts last year. She had gotten seriously ill, and therefore, had to wait a year; whereas, Para was rightfully a first year. Harry tried to look sympathetic, when a crestfallen Seamus let drop his shoulders after the hat announced them both members of Hufflepuff.

Harry immersed himself in watching the first years. They were small and so full of hope. It pained him to know that he had been just like them, before everything had gone to hell. Surprisingly, there were a lot of new students. There was not much more space at the tables and only half of them were already sorted. Either their parents did not believe any of the stories, which surely had made their way through the summer's papers, or they wanted their children to be safe. But it was not safe at Hogwarts! Harry's eyes gleamed when he reminded himself of a not well known fact. For now, everyone was safe from Tom, at the very least. Hogwarts was strong, so maybe they really were safer here than anywhere else. But the castle had not done anything to help in the past, why should it now? Why had it not helped?

Harry tried to send the thought to the castle. It did not answer. He was not certain if it even could. The magic just tingled a little bit more, as if it was… amused at his question. What was this castle?

"What?" Harry grunted in surprise when someone poked him in the ribs.

"You looked a bit distant, Harry." Hermione was the one to supply the answer, though, Ron had been poking him.

"Just thinking."

"'Bout what, mate? You didn't hear anything I said." Ron should have known better than to ask him a question like that, so Harry just grinned and scratched his head.

"Voldemort." He said and took special delight seeing everyone in hearing range flinch. "I was just asking myself, whether or not he likes lollipops." Harry had never had a lollipop until this summer. Bets were high that in his childhood, Tommy Riddle had not had them either. Just another similarity they shared, if a small one. Ron stared open-mouthed and Hermione furrowed her brows thoughtfully. Everyone else was looking at him as if he had finally snapped.

"Sorry, guys." Harry looked around chuckling. "But you should see your faces." It was not that funny, but Harry laughed a bit longer, nevertheless. When he was laughing, he would not have to talk. After he seemingly calmed down, Harry took a deep breath. "By the way, what did you want?" Harry noticed a lot of Gryffindors looking expectantly to her. Ron and Hermione glanced at each other. Finally, it was Hermione who seemed to have drawn the short stick and would have to do the talking.

"Well." She tried to look as if the others had urged her to ask him. Harry could see that Hermione wanted to know just as strong. "A lot of us where wondering whether you were planning to continue the DA." Harry thought fast and decided even faster.

"No," he said. "I won't." He shook his head and ignored the incredulous looks he received. "Let's just see what this new DADA teacher has to teach. As Hermione said earlier," Harry looked at her grinning, "he might know what he is doing." Even if this Brado-guy did not know, Harry would not further the DA. He did not need or want so many people looking over his shoulder. They truly did not need to fight against Voldemort any longer, even if they did not know it yet.

"He really might." Was all she could say in defence, and she crossed her arms. Shrugging apologetically, Hermione blinked when all eyes turned to her. Harry kept silent. It was just as well that Dumbledore took the attention off of him when he stood after the last first year had been sorted.

"Ah, yes. Before Professor McGonagall takes our Sorting Hat back to its place, I want to introduce to you another fine young man." Looking into the dark corner, the headmaster winked the boy forward. "He is – obviously," his eyes twinkled, "not a first year. However, I would like you to welcome Junas Bradarowicz into your midst, nevertheless."

Harry propped his head up with his hands, his elbows resting on the table. He ignored the further speech about working together and learning to trust and to rely on people completely. With his hands over his ears, it was interesting to see what other things crept into awareness when one could not hear a thing except the low buzz that was the castle's magic.

Harry wondered what would happen. Would the castle do what it had done before so that he could feel everyone? He could not even tell the difference between the magical auras of the students next to him. Although he knew what Hermione's and Ron's aura would look like when they were alone, now all of the magic in the hall seemed to make one large stew of everything. However, somehow Harry still did not feel like falling apart. It was difficult to hold the control, but not overly so.

Harry watched the process of the last sorting with narrowed eyes. Dumbledore seemed to love to hear his own voice. Had it been this boring the years before? Harry could not remember. He just took his hand down, as the Sorting Hat started its work to sort the last student.

"Did you see his boots!" Dean and Seamus were not the only ones who let their attention drift to the boy's clothes.

"At least now he's wearing school robes." Ron shuddered and Harry knew what his friend was thinking. "You should have seen him in his own."

Before anyone could say something else, the hat announced the House with its disgustingly cheerful voice. Even the applause from their own table was subdued, when Junas Bradarowicz made his way down to the Gryffindor table. The new fifth year Gryffindor did not laugh or yell. He just walked calmly down to his place, his eyes firmly on the part of the table were Harry and his friends were sitting. Harry found that he did not like the look that boy threw at him, not in the least bit. It reminded him of Snape when he inspected him, as if existing in itself was a fault Harry needed to remedy right away. Gits! All of them! Dumbledore was talking again. Harry groaned. Surprisingly, he was not the only one, as Ron was not looking too happy at the moment.

"Can't he just let us eat already?" Nobody answered that question save a few rolling eyes. Ron was Ron.

Harry put his chin in his hand and looked at the headmaster with as much expression as a stone. He yawned tiredly and let the words wash over him like rain. Nothing would be said Harry did not know already. Although, some of his friends might differ with his opinion, as their eyes were glued to the front to get a good look at dear Delores' replacement. Pity the woman was not coming back anytime soon. A dangerous glint in his eyes flared up. This year Harry would have had his fun with her. He bit his lip to keep his mask firmly in place. How much things would be different if that hag had never come to Hogwarts. The magic in him flared up. Harry shook his head and straightened himself. He would not think about the past. He would see to the future; nothing more, nothing less.

With a sigh, Harry turned back to the head table. Trelawney was back and would be teaching together with Firenze, according to Dumbledore. Harry wondered how that would happen when both had as much respect for the other's work as Tom had for Muggles. This subject would be interesting for certain – in this aspect, at least. Harry had not seen his OWLs, but whatever he had scored; he would not take Divination anymore, be it with the stargazing centaur or with a foreteller of gloom. Neither of them was of much help to him. Harry blinked when after a long speech it was finally time for the DADA teacher to make himself known. Instead of looking to the front where a peacock ruffled his feathers, Harry looked into the faces of his classmates and could not help himself. He burst out laughing in a completely silent hall.

"Is something the matter, my boy?" Blue eyes found him between his friends and lightened up. Harry grimaced, but grinned, nevertheless.

"No, sir. Nothing." He smiled beatifically and ignored the few sniggers coming from Dean and Seamus.

"Are you sure, my boy?" The bright blue eyes sparkled at the same time when Harry's eyes narrowed. For god's sake, he had a name! However, if peacock wanted to play dirty, two could do it. It was a Gryffindor thing to do, was it not? If the idiot wanted him to answer in front of the school, Harry would do him the favour.

"I just thought that I really like your robes, Professor." A low sniggering made its way through the student population.

"Ah yes, I know." The sniggers grew louder. "I thank you very much." He smiled down at Harry indulgently and turned back to the students at large. The man smiled frighteningly similar to one Gilderoy Lockhart that Harry was not eager to meet again.

"As headmaster Dumbledore already said, my name is Jashonek Bradarowicz. But you may call me Professor Brado or Nik if you prefer." Blinking, Brado turned to a stern looking head of Gryffindor House who was clearing her throat meaningfully. "Of course only if we are not in class," he relented with a slight nod to her.

Merlin! Why was it always the DADA teachers, who made his Hogwarts' years a ridge walk between life and death? Harry put his head in his hands. He would count the days until he found himself jumping out of the astronomy tower.


	19. Chapter 18 : Feasting Magic

**Title:** Harry Potter and the Summer's Secret

_**Author:** Japhu_

_**Beta Reader:** Chameleon_

_**Pairing:** HPSS_

_**Rating:** R_

_**Disclaimer:** I own nothing of Harry Potter and his world and don't make any money with it._

_**Summary:** For one week in summer Harry disappears without trace. When he comes back he claims to have no memory. But something happened and it changed him. It remains to be seen if for the better or the worse. (will be HPSS)_

_**Category:** action/adventure/angst_

_**Feedback:** highly appreciated_

* * *

**Chapter 18 - Feasting Magic**

Entirely exhausted, Harry drove both hands through his hair and rubbed his eyes before sitting up straight. The overly enthusiastic DADA teacher was magically forced back into his seat by Dumbledore; he could not seem to find an end to his animated speech about his teaching methods and general virtues. Most teachers actually looked amused. The students did not give a damn and after Dumbledore's obligatory, "Tuck in"; there was no holds anymore. Ron yelped out in glee when the table was finally set and he found right in front of him a big bowl of hot pumpkin jelly. Harry himself preferred to bite into an apple. He closed his eyes. Sweet and juicy. This was heaven. But not everyone was eating.

"Wow!" Seamus was still staring at the head table, open-mouthed.

"Oh, Seamus, he was sitting there for the whole time during the sorting."

"But I didn't see him then." The boy kept staring. He was not the only one.

"Seamus!" Hermione reprimanded. Ron sniggered.

"What?" with a blank look he turned to Dean. "I mean, have you ever seen anyone more ridiculous? Well, save Lockhart of course."

"I'd say." Harry murmured. Due to the curious glances he received, he furthered an explanation: "He reminds me of Dumbledore without lemon drops and that crazy long beard."

"Harry!" Hermione looked at him indignantly. "That's not very nice."

"What? That I think they look alike, or that Dumbledore has that beard?" Harry really believed they looked alike. It was there… but not. It was all in the eyes. Hermione stared at him incredulously, but Ron did not seem to mind.

"Do you think he's another one of Fudge's lackeys?" Again, the people surrounding them grew silent. After the experience with Umbridge, there was a keen awareness to save one's own neck. He shrugged wordlessly.

"Harry?"

"Perhaps, but I don't think so." Harry blinked away the swirls of magic coming off every person like mist rising from a lake's surface. He was having more difficulty in distinguishing between separate people. They were too close together, and Harry's attempts to ignore the castle's magic were futile; it made his whole body tingle even more than before. Harry watched Brado out of the corner of his eye.

"His head is filled with one of Neville's potions gone awry," he thought aloud. "Nothing but goo."

"Yeah, Neville, nothing but goo." Evidently, Seamus found it hilarious, despite Dean boxing him warningly.

"Sorry, Neville." Grimacing, Harry looked over to the boy.

"It's alright, Harry," the other boy smiled shyly. "It is goo most of the time," he said good-naturedly and shrugged.

"I'm sure you won't be as bad this year, Neville." Hermione tried to soothe. Harry only shook his head when he saw the other boy's cautious glance.

"I'm not taking Potions, Hermione." Neville swallowed visibly.

"Oh, I'm sorry." She was the only one. Everyone else was congratulating Neville, patting the surprised boy on the back. It was not often that he got so much attention. Harry frowned. Had not Neville said that he needed Potions to get a better understanding of Herbology? He could not remember.

"Let's talk about that later." Harry shook his head.

"Why?" Hermione jerked her head back to him. "Have you gotten into Potions?" Harry mumbled something inaudible and stuffed himself in the same manner as Ron did at every meal. A day without food is not deadly; however, it is not pleasant either and is as annoying as hell. Besides, this way he could not answer any questions. Harry did not like the curious looks he was getting, but he was always getting them; so no real harm done. He did not like talking about OWLs and courses. Hermione bloomed of course. It was not that Harry had not bothered to read the letter; it reminded him of a future far, far away. Harry had serious doubts, whether or not he might still be present when his scores were needed.

The hair on his neck stood up. As if pulled into the right direction, Harry's eyes sought – o nly for an instant – the figure of Dumbledore. Harry did not reply to the smile he received. He just stared back at him. If the old coot knew why his magic was changing and had not told him; Harry would not simply destroy his office. The old man would not know what hit him. What Dumbledore recognized in his eyes, Harry could not say. When he looked away the twinkle in the headmaster's eyes had miraculously dimmed.

Angrily, Harry picked at his food, his free hand closing and opening without conscious thought. He did not like to be left in the dark. It did not help him with his task. The fact that he could not control the power he had made him anxious; even though, he did not want to admit it. He was more aware of his power than before, but he was still a teenage boy and he needed to sleep; among other things. He did not like the way the castle was closing up on him. For a moment he had managed to forget, but now it was almost as bad as before.

His eyes hurt from seeing nothing accept the glaring light of magic. It had been an ordeal to find his plate. If he had not known that it would be right in front of him, he possibly would not have found it. When the food had popped out of thin air it had hurt for an instant. Luckily, the magical flash had been gone before he had time to flinch away. His nerves were raw and tense. Harry sensed something was about to happen; and somehow he doubted that it would be to his advantage. Hell, nobody could have prepared himself for magical places like Hogwarts. He wished he could go back to Diagon Alley. There the magic was just taxing, but did not have a life of its own.

Despite the power he had or could have in the future, now Harry was just guessing what his next step should be. He knew that his next move could be wrong, even fatal. Harry felt the magic of the others around him though he could not see anything except this damned whirlpool of light. However, when he concentrated hard on the people next to him, it seemed almost possible to recognize different auras. Unfortunately, it hurt his eyes and head, causing his hands to tremble with exhaustion. He felt his friends' magic reaching out to him even though he could not see them. Harry put his fork down and pressedhis hands together, until the knuckles stood out white.

He just had to get used to all the magic that was infusing even the tiniest stone here. With such a lack of magic at Privet Drive, the castle's presence was proving to be somewhat overwhelming. The wards at the Dursleys' were strong, but they were a fixed constant. And Mrs. Figg? Well, despite being a squib, she still had a magical aura – it was a weak one though. Her cats could do more magic than she.

Always guessing his way around was not what Harry preferred to do. He had read a lot of books. It was like in the case of Tom; he had some knowledge of him. However, it was a whole lot different to know about things than to really do them; and to live through them. He could not change it for now, so it did not bother him much… well, it did; but Harry did not want to think about it. He needed to puzzle out what the castle – damn stone box – was doing to him.

Suddenly, the magic surging through his body increased frighteningly. Looking around to see if someone realized that something was going on; Harry bit his teeth to see his friends talking animatedly. He did not dare to look at the head table. He knew the headmaster was already watching him; just waiting for Harry to give him ammunition to work with. Harry had more pressing matters to deal with and frankly he did not care what thoughts the headmaster kept turning in that crazy marble he called his head. From moment to moment, Harry began to have more difficulty controlling the amount of magic the castle was now sending to him. His head ached with raw energy. His skin burned where it touched something.

Harry was not sure if anyone could pick up on the magic also. Probably some of the other students near him could feel a thickening of air around them and perhaps a light tingling in their wands; which were inexplicitly magically drawn to the high magical power surrounding them. Harry was not certain, and he could not ask anyone. The teachers were out of the question. Dumbledore and Snape he did not even take into consideration. He would need to be careful in their presence; lest he give himself away. At least, he would have to be careful in the old man's presence. Harry grinned ruefully. Snape would already suspect something. That man was always thinking that Harry was plotting something. It would be fun; if Harry did not overdo it. He looked at Hermione and saw her thoughtfully wrinkled forehead. She furrowed her brows and looked sceptically around. She felt it too. That was a given. Harry bit his teeth, snatched up his fork and stabbed at his food viciously. His hand trembled with effort not to let the gleaming golden tool drop.

It did not feel right to be so absolutely defenceless and weak. Harry depended on something he could not understand or change and it scared him. The anger and fury surging through his system were not helping. Some of these feelings had to be Tom's but not all of them. Harry bit the insides of his cheeks until he felt blood. He could not let go. He must not! Putting his head in his hands to keep it from falling onto the table, Harry blinked with alarm when profound darkness began to close in front of his eyes. It was all he could do to sit still and not call attention to himself. What was this stupid stone box up to now?

The castle pondered over the new development and sudden changes that had occurred in so short a time. However, Hogwarts could adapt fast. It analyzed all the patterns it received from this promising cluster. Anger, confusion and hurt. Luckily, it did not know an insult if it was right in front of its face; a fact Harry would be glad about – if he knew. The darkness of the cluster was undeniable. Light and darkness in their purest forms were present within this one. In this dichotomy, the castle found the one destined to fulfil its greater purpose.

Hogwarts stilled itself. It had found what it had been searching for over the centuries. However, haste was of no importance. Time was time. More information was needed in order to act. A final decision required all the facts to be gathered and weighed. After all, refusal was not a consideration. There was no way for anyone in its clutches to get away. Once Hogwarts made its decision and furthered its task; the results were incontrovertible and eternal. Nothing could ever change it. Nothing had ever tried to change it.

Beginning to examine the intentions of this odd cluster, Hogwarts did not detect anything that threatened its own existence. It would not do anything to intervene in things this entity would do in the future as long as it did not change in its intentions. The castle would be prepared. Hogwarts probed the cluster further. The magic of the one core it intended to use was not fully developed yet. Even unschooled, the magical power was exceptionally strong. It reacted almost on an instinctual level.

A bond was discovered existing between the two magical cores. They battled for dominance within the magic cluster. Hogwarts would watch and see which one of the two cores got the upper hand. If the ill one triumphed, it would be a matter of moments to assimilate the danger. Should the pure one stay on top and true in itself, the castle would bond with it; for this was the one able to unite what was broken.

This bond was one of the darkest the castle had ever been witness to. It made Hogwarts think. It worked in only one direction; to the benefit of only the caster. However, this bond held something else hidden that should not be possible. Something not even Hogwarts could read. This was old magic, seen generations ago when the castle had still been blazing brightly in a new garment of enchanted stone. It united numerous different entities.

Bonding with another two entities was not possible. The castle noticed the tenuous control the cluster had over the wilder aspects of the unified power. A constant threat of loosing control loomed on the edge. Too much of a strain could cost dearly. The castle would not allow that to happen. For the first time in its existence, the castle deviated from its typical course of action.

It would not bond to this particular magical core – no matter how rare able beings were. At least, not yet. For now, Hogwarts needed a way to communicate with this cluster. However, communication was impossible since the entity was not accustomed to high levels of energy. Everything else could wait. After all, Hogwarts had waited for centuries. It would wait another century if need be.

There was only one thing to do now. Ever so slowly, Hogwarts would make their magic come together; starting now. And every day would bring them a bit closer. It reached out to the cores of the entity. The castle required more than unconsciously worked magic. The cluster was impressive. Oh! The things this could accomplish if it only knew what it was capable of. This astounding cluster of energy could gather magic from its surroundings in a way that left the castle in an equivalent of delight, but still the castle had no problem to close it off.

Without the slightest hesitation, Hogwarts reached out and embraced the cluster of mostly wild – but highly potential – magical energy with care; like an aunt would hug a child she had not seen in a very long time. It kept away from the brightly gleaming inner core pulsing with suppressed energy and attempting to break out of its confinement. It did not want the cluster to burst due to the strain before the fight for dominance in itself was over. The castle directed its attention to the dozen focal points the cluster had built. This would allow easier access to the core's power. It would be easier to control the magic if it had a way it could flow without doing damage.

Hogwarts chose to merge preliminary to a bond. It could be undone and would not necessarily cause lasting magical injury to the weaker participant. Deaths were rare, but not unheard of. The castle's work was fast and resolute, though it had never attempted something quite like this ever before. There was no certainty that anyone had done something similar, at least not voluntarily. What the castle was attempting to do was not far from the position this cluster was already in. To merge a part of magic with another one's would cause the cores to be drawn together. It would end explicitly with the stronger one swallowing the other. Hogwarts would know when this point was reached. Only then it would decide whether to bond or to destroy; another possibility was not a given. The ancient building did not care for either one of the future choices. There would always be another One to come though this one cluster was the most promising it had ever found.

The castle felt the cluster's apprehension as it sent out its magic. Hogwarts felt the jabs and strokes of energy, as if targeting its own being; knowing that it awoke pain in the One time had sent to it. It continued with its work; not stopping even when it felt the conscious mind slip. The castle brought the consciousness back just as fast. It needed the cluster to be aware of what was going on. Hogwarts had to unravel each one of the core's focal points and to build them anew. The new structure was only slightly different as something of the castle was woven into the delicate web.

Whatever the castle was playing at during the Welcoming Feast, Harry fought to appear at least halfway responsive to his friends' constant chatter; not that he actually heard anything they said. He hurt like hell and Harry wanted to scream his throat raw. But he could not. He was not even able to open his mouth. It was like being controlled from the outside. He retained not an ounce of control. Tears of pain and frustration dried in his eyes. The heat of active magic depleting the precious moisture before it reached his cheeks. Every muscle cramped painfully. To the outer eye, Harry seemed to sit relaxed; if a bit crouched. How can they not see? How can they not know? Hogwarts separated him from his surroundings and the rest of the world.

Tom did not seem to like the castle's attack either. They howled in unison within the confines of Harry's aching head. Neither able to distinguish the screams reverberating in his skull. Most of Harry's attention was with Tom. The former Dark Lord's instinct to survive was pushing him to fight. Or – Harry thought it likely – Tom just did not want Hogwarts to use him as if he was a Muggle in Voldemort's dungeon.

Another wave of pain nearly shook the boy in his being. It was like being scrutinized from the inside out. He was not able to sidetrack the castle and Tom still raged like mad; that at least took his mind off things the castle could do with him. Hogwarts' presence was always there in the back of Harry's mind. It drove the incredible magic right through his very being and heightened his sense of helplessness.

The strain to deal with the combined efforts of the Dark Lord and the castle drained Harry. For an instant he almost lost consciousness. Only a sharp pain brought him back from the edge; bringing with it a resurgence of the unbearable agony. Fury bubbled and boiled deep within him. His head blew apart. A magical rush stormed through every cell of his being, leaving him dead to the world and incoherent. For one moment, he longed for death. The agonising torture peaked and a second later he felt only empty; drained to the core and very sore. Cautiously Harry blinked. A moment later he drew a deep breath. He was waiting, not yet ready to believe it was over.

A twitch in his toe told him that his body was back under his control. Harry moved a foot under the table in expectation to meet something substantial – A magical bubble or a shield perhaps? – Something separating him from the hall and people around him. There was nothing. Save a low magical buzz, there was only the warmth, silence and the reverberation of pain.

Merlin! Could it not leave him already? A quivering breath was released as he tried to suppress the tremble of abused muscles. Harry closed his eyes. He just wanted to go to sleep and never wake up.

As if it had been waiting for him to think those thoughts, the castle became a simple building of stone again. Hogwarts drew back its presence to wait; for now. Observing undeterred. It would wait for what it knew to be the one it needed in times to come. This cluster had just stepped into something that made it part of Hogwarts; more than anything else strolling through its halls.


	20. Chapter 19 : Alarming Consequences

**Title:** Harry Potter and the Summer's Secret

_**Author:** Japhu_

_**Beta Reader:** Chameleon_

_**Pairing:** HPSS_

_**Rating:** R_

_**Disclaimer:** I own nothing of Harry Potter and his world and don't make any money with it._

_**Summary:** For one week in summer Harry disappears without trace. When he comes back he claims to have no memory. But something happened and it changed him. It remains to be seen if for the better or the worse. (will be HPSS)_

_**Category:** action/adventure/angst_

_**Feedback:** highly appreciated_

* * *

**Chapter 19 – Alarming Consequences**

Harry felt dead to the world. He had never done anything that seemed as hard as this staying put and appearing to listen to his friends. He could barely prevent himself from slumping forward heavily, out cold. At the thought of this… madness he felt his insides squirming, even though the castle's presence was gone completely. A relief though Harry now felt weariness seeping into his bones. It took a moment for him to realize that things had changed. He felt his heart beat increase. He blinked rapidly. It was like waking up in broad daylight unable to see anything at all – blind to the world. He had become accustomed to seeing the universe as it was supposed to be seen, vibrant and wonderful. Now; however, the rainbow of color was mostly gone, and the rest seemed somehow dull and lifeless, berreft of its real being.

Since the moment Harry had been able to see and feel the magic around him, he had thought he'd rather not have it. He was not so certain anymore. He could still see some of the magical aura of every being but not the magic that made the tables and plates glisten in different colors. He could no longer see or feel the magic swirling in air itself. Stones and wood were now nothing more than just that – stones and wood. The rather unearthly (but beautiful) magic that filled everything and changed the whole world to a magnificent ocean of color was gone.

Not knowing what the castle had done, Harry felt rather violated and hurt. He hated not being asked before being pressed into actions he would rather not do. Concentrating hard, Harry sensed something like a shield surrounding his magic. It prevented him from accessing his power – or most of it; though it was not a shield… When he tried to pierce through it, it was gone – but not. With fright, Harry realized that he could not say where this… thing began and his own magic ended. It felt alien but strangely familiar all the same. Breathing heavily, Harry forced himself to gather his wits. Until now, the only advantage he could make out was that he would not bring a sudden explosion upon his friends. Personally, at this moment he would have enjoyed leveling Hogwarts to dust.

Carefully, Harry looked around this strangely silent world. Due to exhaustion, he considerably calmed down. Terrified beyond what his mind was able to process (and a simple inability to do anything about it) helped to subdue him. The people, students and teachers alike, looked… wrong. The brightly gleaming magical auras were gone. A barely visible haze was all that remained surrounding them. It was not healthy to brood about things one could not change; he simply shoved all of it back into a dark corner of his mind. Tom remained there – waiting. Or rather, pacing the confines of his cell.

Harry rigorously directed his gaze at his dull golden plate covered with food. He could not really appreciate that he could recognize it. Lost in his own changed view of the magical world, Harry was not aware of the looks his friends kept sending him even as the minutes ticked by slowly but steadily. He felt restless in this quiet world. It was odd to think that it had been like this forever. Before this summer's events, he had not known what a tremendous view of the world he was missing. Hermione would give anything to see only a bit of it. Harry mused to himself. He rubbed his face. A bit was not enough for him anymore. He wanted it back – all of it.

Listening to his surroundings with the keen awareness that comes with utter tiredness (when one is beginning to feel light and detached from everything real). Harry suddenly knew why it felt so impossibly quiet. The constant whisper of magic, the low humming buzz of pulsing and continuously working energy, that had been a regular sound in the back of his head had fallen silent. Even though Harry listened attentively, silence echoed in his ears. Only a faint glimmer of something remained. Knowing it had to be there but not really hearing it in any way; he felt it deep down within his own being.

He truly had gone deaf and blind according to his magical senses. However, he was left trembling with apprehension not by this loss, but by the knowledge of what Hogwarts was capable of. What would it or could it do to him in the future, if it had taken his power as easily as this? He was suddenly relieved he had chosen to follow a really simple plan. Anything more elaborate would have gone to hell by now since it seemed his priorities had just experienced a sudden, quite unexpected, change. At his first opportunity, he would need to find out what the castle had done and what it was up to now. He would not just sit back and accept this power play. No way!

"Harry!"

"Huh? Yes?" He looked up at Ron from the plate he had been intently staring at. Blinking rapidly at the change of sight, he felt as though he had been ripped from a dream (which he was somehow); though it was more like a nightmare.

"What's going on with you today, Harry? It must be the fiftieth time I had to yell to finally get your attention." Ron snorted, but he looked more worried than he wanted to let on. Harry grimaced.

"I don't see you yelling now," he said dryly looking at both of them.

He still could see his friends' auras, if not as bright and gleaming as before. The colors (especially in Hermione's aura) seemed muddled somehow, less there. It was not as bad as he had thought – or as it could have been. Harry still could think of much worse and he shuddered to think of it. It would not be as easy now to read the colors, but at least he could still see some of each of their aura.

"For once he was trying to be discreet, Harry." Hermione watched him. Suddenly, Hermione had quite the conspiratorial expression on her face as she bent down to him. "You felt it, didn't you?" She spoke quietly and stabbed at her food in nearly the same manner as Harry had done just moments ago.

"Sorry, no." Harry shook his head. As tired and frightened as he was, he still knew when a lie was in order. "I was just nearly asleep, Hermione. Thanks for waking me - by the way." He turned to Ron while furrowing his brows. Everything was just… wrong.

"Are you all right?" Hermione would not let it go, as Harry had hoped. Set her a tracer and she would follow it to the end and beyond.

"Of course I am." Harry nodded vigorously and tried to look as he had told her. "What were you talking about? What did you feel?" It was not easy to ask his questions with the right amount of confused worry, without sounding guilty. Anyway, it was a good opportunity to figure out what exactly had reached her. He bent down to her with the same conspiratorial look. "Was it the same as in the train?"

Now, Ron too seemed to be intrigued, if mostly confused. Still munching on something that looked like a bit of the squid's tentacle covered in that now rather lukewarm pumpkin jelly; he leaned in to join the quiet conversation. Instantly, his stomach churned. Harry had to turn away to avoid a rather unpleasant occurrence. Hermione still seemed at a loss for words. Something in Harry already regretted having asked her. He needed to know if he had to reckon with her. Looking questioningly at her was proving enough to start her talking in a barely audible whisper.

"It was different." She tilted her head, a fingernail deliberately following the pattern of the wood's grain. "It wasn't as overwhelming as before. It seemed… controlled or shadowed by something… as if it wasn't really there." Pulling a face she looked up at him. "Are you sure you're feeling well?"

"Yes, Hermione." Harry blinked and faked a yawn. "I told you. I'm all right – just feeling tired. I need a good night's sleep without teachers poking their heads in and waking me." Hermione stared at him out of thoughtfully narrowed eyes as if doubting his words. He really did feel better – at least magically. Save Tom, Harry did not have anything that could get out of control at any moment – not anymore. Harry knew he physically still looked as pale as the moon, with dark craters under his eyes. Nothing he could do about that. At least he did not look like some hunger stick. He had gotten food all right during this summer – well, save his own carelessness during the last day.

"What are you going to do about it?" Harry brought her back, quite relieved that she did not ramble endlessly. Obviously, it had helped to have a similar experience of high magic's use beforehand. She was able to concentrate on the scientific aspects of it this time.

"What I'll do?" A definite gleam shone in her eyes when she looked around the hall before resting them on Harry again. "I'll look it up of course. It happened twice already," she explained rapidly with, surprisingly, much enthusiasm. "That means there's a strong possibility it is something that occurs regularly… or at least more than one time per century." Her eyes glazed over slightly as if in a fever. "There have to be books about something like that." Her lips pressed together in determination. "Wherever those books are, I'll find them, Harry." The girl blossomed under a challenge like this. Stress (and not to have one moment of free-time) prolonged her life and made her happy.

"I'm sure you will." Harry smiled rather indulgently. She seemed absolutely determined to solve this puzzle. He quite liked her stubborn resoluteness and resourcefulness in these things – mostly. She had more opportunities to find something than he had; and Harry would have to read a lot of information this year. He was glad Hermione could help him, even if she would not know it.

It was rather unfortunate that he could not tell his two best friends. Harry followed this thought rather gloomily even though his decision had been made for some time already. It was quite sensitive information he had to hide. Harry did not trust them to handle the problem the way he wanted to, or rather, as he had planned to solve it. Besides, they would have enough on their minds; and for once they should not have to deal with his problems. Mostly, it was selfish motives that closed his mouth tightly. Harry did not want them to know anything about what had happened out of fear they would try to meddle with things they knew nothing about.

He could already see Ron backing away with an expression of terrified disgust after he told him the Dark Lord was quite literally living in his head. He watched everything Harry did; trying to break out at least once a day to take over the world. Hermione would most likely pull out her notebook and never leave his side again. At least until she had read some clever books about possession that is. At which point, she would deem it to dangerous for Harry – and everyone else – to allow him to roam freely about. Of course, it would only be in his best interest that they lock him up in the deepest dungeon. Inevitably, they would get a professor's help when they noticed Harry's determination to work through this on his own was not going to change anytime soon. Certainly, they would only be trying to help him. It would not really matter to whom they spoke. Dumbledore would know, eventually. Harry could not trust that man to let _him_ do what he knows is the best in this crazy situation.

There was only one way Harry knew to deal with his problem – alone. He did not have a choice. It was his problem, and he would deal with it. It hurt, though, not being able to talk to anyone besides his own reflection; and he had not reckoned on having Hogwarts at his throat too. Harry watched his friends with something like regretful steadfastness. He did not want to think about help he could not ask for or a future he did not have. Directing his attention back to his food, Harry kept one ear to his friends.

For now, Hermione seemed busy planning her thorough research through each one of the library's books. Ron was still shovelling those gross things into his mouth. Once again Harry took a bite of whatever it was his plate held warm for him. He relished more in the quiet than in the taste of the food. Harry knew that this moment of peace could not hold long. He found himself under a scrutinizing gaze again only moments after he had cleared his mind of the worries that loomed over him. He hesitated to risk a look at the headtable, but Harry had to know.

Frowning slightly, Harry saw the headmaster watching him thoughtfully. Harry's eyes narrowed. Stupid castle sending some of its magic right under the old man's nose! By now the old twinkler would have figured out that whatever had happened during the summer had far reaching consequences which were not nearly over. He did not look like he had an inkling of what exactly was going on. Could it be that Dumbledore was blind to the castle's real… being? Still? It did not seem likely that the headmaster would leave be something so powerful without controlling it. After being headmaster for decades, should he not know?

Harry had sworn to himself to stay far away from Dumbledore whenever possible. It would do the manipulative bastard some good to feel firsthand what it means to trust others to know what's best, and to be forced to follow blindly in their paths. Well, he would find out soon enough how long Dumbledore was going to let him off the leash. Certainly the crooked nose man knew something had happened during summer. Most probably he had noticed his absence from Privet Drive – nothing to ponder about after the Order's visit right at the moment he had returned. Let him be suspicious. It did not matter. There was no way anyone could know what had happened during his absence. This stuff nobody but himself would be able to tell; anyone else who had been there was dead. Of course, he could remember those golden robes. None of them had been there when Harry left. Unless Snape…

Harry glanced further down the head table and gulped when he found the Potions Master returning his look with seldom before seen seriousness. No! Snape did not know anything. The entire staff appeared to limit themselves to watching – possibly under Dumbledore's orders – until Harry gave a clue to all these events. Snape was no exception. That man always looked sour. At the moment though, his scornful gaze lacked the loathing it normally radiated rather convincingly. His eyes were so narrow that they appeared to disappear, just like the tightly pressed mouth. Harry thought he could hear him gritting his teeth through the hall.

They had not spoken more than a few words during the whole time at Diagon Alley or King's Cross. Well, mostly they had just exchanged nasty remarks along the way; or better Harry had taken what had been freely given. Perhaps Snape guessed something. There were a lot of theories around, but nothing definite. Harry glanced up at the Professor's table. It could not be! It must not be. Snape would have talked to Dumbledore. Knowing something like that, the old coot would not have waited until Harry finished his meal. He would have been standing right next to the entrance of the castle when Harry arrived.

It was not possible that Snape had been there when… no. Harry blinked, shook himself out of this spiral and shrugged inwardly. He could not do anything. Therefore it was lost time – again – to think about what he would do eventually. He would not wallow in things that simply were out of his ability to control. Had Snape been there, he would be dead now like all the others. Point. Harry shoved his plate away. He was still hungry but his need for food was gone. An apple and a few bites of… Harry looked down. It had an aftertaste of pumpkin, but it did not resemble anything near. Whatever it was, it was not enough to fill his stomach.

Harry would think about Snape only when outer circumstances dictated it. He was not without ammunition if his illustrious Potions Master chose to take their little tête-à-tête to another level. Actually, Harry looked forward to it, if he just had a better hold on his magic. Sighing, Harry moved his observations to the next individual of interest. He could barely prevent a scowl from showing on his face, followed directly by a flustered role of his eyes.

Brado still wore that stupid smile and did not seem to have felt anything. Chatting away happily to Harry's rather glum looking Head of House; Brado appeared not to worry about anything in general. Once again, he winked to some students whose looks he caught. Although Brado's demeanour did not necessarily have to mean anything, his aura had nearly become invisible. Maybe Harry should go forward to tell him that there was no need to hide himself anymore, as Harry would not be able to see anything if it was right in front of his face.

"He's angry that he doesn't have Neville anymore to take points from. He can't do it to Hermione. Everyone knows she doesn't make mistakes she doesn't want to." Harry turned around slowly so as not to make his head spin. He looked from Seamus to Neville and back again, thinking he had missed his cue again.

"You were looking at Snape," Seamus explained evenly; grinning like the imp he was. "He looks like he wants to keel over and isn't doing it because he knows we would applaud him for that feat."

"He does?" Harry had seen nothing special. He had just taken the sallow look for the git's every day appearance. Harry did not give a damn about the git's choice of garb (out of the countless black one's he had) or anything else.

"Maybe he's not feeling well?" Hermione's voice of reasoning made itself known. It was met by a wall of blank looks and uncaring scoffs.

"As I said," Seamus smiled gleefully. "He's going to keel over."

"And if he's seriously ill?" Again scoffs were the only answer. Ron even started to clap his hands with mirth, though only for a moment. He had to put his fork down in order to accomplish a feat like that. He preferred more food though.

Well, what if he was ill? Once again, Harry watched the head table and its occupants. In general, he did not look at the bastard with all that much attention. He intended to keep it that way, at least as long as he was not in danger of getting another one of those unaccountable (and quite unfairly given) detentions Snape seemed to try to hand out two for the price of one when giving them to him. However, they were right. Snape looked like he had swallowed something vile. Harry's eyes widened in recognition.


	21. Chapter 20 : Taking Leave

**_Title:_** Harry Potter and the Summer's Secret

_**Author:** Japhu _

_**Beta reader:** Chameleon_

_**Pairing:** HPSS_

_**Rating:** R_

_**Disclaimer:** I own nothing of Harry Potter and his world and don't make any money with it._

_**Summary: **For one week in summer Harry disappears without trace. When he comes back he claims to have no memory. But something happened and it changed him. It remains to be seen if for the better or the worse. (will be HPSS)_

_**Category:** action/adventure/angst_

_**Feedback:** highly appreciated_

* * *

**Chapter 20 – Taking Leave**

Snape (as well as the other Death Eaters) had been bound to Voldemort by means of the Dark Mark. Harry thought that Snape had felt Tom fighting Harry in Diagon Alley, without really knowing what had been going on. Had Snape felt Tom raving again when Hogwarts had started its little game? In Diagon Alley it had been obvious. Would it always be as easily sensed by the ones bound to the original mark when Tom and Harry had a… disagreement? Although, now that Tom had calmed down from his earlier protests, anything Snape might have felt should be gone. Had Snape even felt a backlash of whatever the castle had been doing? And if so, could anyone who had received the Mark have felt Hogwarts' magic rip through the bond; tracing it back to its new source before its retreat? Harry could not remember if the mark he now sported had reacted to the violent magic in any way. If it had, that certainly explained why Snape looked like he wanted to curl up in a corner – well, not Snape. He would rather kick at anyone getting in his way in order to take out the brunt of his own misery.

Harry stopped watching the Potions Master and lowered his head. Either way, Harry could not have done a thing about it. Smirking, he turned back to his food. He pulled the plate back to him to poke a bit more at the now unidentifiable stuff – it had endured way too much poking to survive with its outer appearance intact. Harry shook his head and glanced back. Probably the git was just thinking about him and the spoilt life he lived with his Muggle relatives. This year, Harry would get back at him – well, as soon as he was not as tired as now. Harry's smirk widened unconsciously. There was always something worth living for, even if it was only antagonizing Snape until he was the one to lose control for once. It would be fun to watch, if he could hold his eyes open long enough.

Exhaustion, another thing Harry did not want to think about. He was so tired that if he so much as imagined lying down, he would be asleep. Not even a brisk walk on the ridge of the roof – in a thunder storm – would be able to keep him awake. With eyelids as heavy as mountains, he nodded to Ron. Harry did not know what the redhead had said just a moment before, but it must have been good. He grinned when his friends laughed out loud. Even Neville hid a smile and Hermione stopped thinking of books – for an instant at least.

"Did I say something funny?" It was good to see his friends laughing for once, even if it probably was at his expense. He did not really care. All he wanted was to simply walk out of the hall and go to bed now.

"No, Harry." United they shook their heads and laughed. "We just think you should go to bed as fast as possible." Hermione smiled, her eyes laughing still.

"That's what I told you, remember?" Inside, Harry heaved a longing sigh. Any bed would be welcome. How long until he could drop into one of those wonderful soft beds they have here? He rather liked those beds a lot; much better than his own lumpy mattress back at Privet Drive. Additionally, he would not have more dreams about Voldemort's ill sense of humor and blind revenge any longer. Tom was safely put away. There was no chance he could get out of there, and sleeping meant Harry would not have to think about anything. To make his evening perfect, Harry just needed to go to bed.

Just as he was about to doze off happily, Harry jumped back from the table when plate, food and everything else abruptly popped out of existence. He was no longer sensitive to the magic at work in the Great Hall. No pain was a good thing. He did not feel so much as the familiar tingling around his body, but sensing nothing at all was not really appreciated. Thinking and feeling nothing would go well with him in his state of mind (having been pulled back and forth once too much today); Harry stayed sitting and watched with a somewhat dull expression as the other Gryffindors rose to leave. Both of his friends – especially Hermione – climbed from their places to gather the first years and help the new fifth year prefects.

Having been occupied with a stupid lost doll (topped with the castle's quite strange and painful way of welcoming him back into its halls) Harry had missed not only the Sorting Hat's song – again – but also the announcement of the prefects as well. However, as they did not seem to be anyone he knew by name, it did not cause his skin to itch – not like the year before. It had been somewhat of a sore point to have both of his best friends being chosen as prefects, when he had been left empty handed. This year; however, having them performing prefect duties would prove to be to Harry's advantage. They would be so busy that he will have a little bit more space to breathe and time to prepare for what was to come without them constantly watching over him.

Since Harry had not kept his attention on the first years the entire time during the part of the sorting ceremony he had been present for, he did not know who was sorted into which house. Now he watched the new Gryffindors walking proudly and wide eyed in a crowd, so as not to lose their way on their first day of school. Alas, he could not see the head of dark curls he had been hoping to find. Harry had taken a liking to the girl somewhere along the way from a lost doll to the castle. He did not know why; perhaps, it was because she had looked as lost as he felt much of the time in his life.

He could see neither child nor doll anywhere in the mass of people surging out of the Hall in the direction of the Gryffindor tower. She might have been sorted into one of the other houses then. Maybe better for her. People he did not get close to tended to live years longer than those that he did. His eyes radiating the darkness of his thoughts, Harry blinked away any regret he felt and grinned yawning. If the little girl was sorted into one of the other houses, it would certainly make Ron's year a little easier. It would be hard for Ron to keep an eye on the little sister of Ginny's boyfriend all of the time as he had promised his mother he would do. He had a good enough excuse now; he could not possibly enter the other House's dorm. Ron had more luck than he deserved to get out of his task this easily.

Harry looked down to where Ginny and her friends – together with the banes of Harry's existence, Colin… and junior Nik – were rising from their seats. Ron's sister did not seem to agree with the choices made by the professors. Harry had not known she wanted to be a prefect herself. However, the looks she currently was giving the new prefects clearly showed her distaste and did not promise a close friendship. Harry averted his eyes when a group of fifth years passed his position. He did not want another conversation with Junas Brado; his stomach agreed with him. Bending down to gather his shoelaces and remains of consciousness, Harry sighed. He felt relieved when he saw the group of feet leave the Hall without coming to a halt next to him.

Unfortunately, he was certain he had recognized Ginny's worn boots slowing down and coming dangerously close to stopping. In a feeble attempt to avoid the girl, Harry had sunk down even more to hide like no true Gryffindor would have. However, even a Gryffindor could take only so much. Not even the Gryffindor in Harry was up to another challenge before he had slept for at least ten hours. As he got up, relief was obvious in his tired – nevertheless satisfied – expression. Harry jerked around rapidly when he felt a rather hard pat on his back. He breathed out again; clearly more awake now than moments before.

"That was a nice one, Harry." Seamus smiled and winked to his friends. "I wouldn't have wanted to talk to him right after eating myself." Seamus followed the retreating backs with his eyes; clearly focused on the brightly gleaming pink head that stood out among all the brunettes, blondes, blacks and the carroty red one they were used to seeing.

"Thanks, Seamus." Harry grinned. "I thought so myself." There was no sense in disabusing Seamus of his wrong conclusion. Looking around into the now somewhat serious faces, Harry frowned darkly. "What are you guys still doing here?" He looked from one to the other. Only Neville had the sense to look guilty, nervously shifting from one foot to the other.

Seamus opened his mouth, certainly to say something ridiculous. This time Dean stopped him before he could make a fool of himself… or more likely someone else. Harry was rather grateful to Dean. Seamus' humor was alright. It was just another way to cope with everything the war kept dropping down on their doorsteps. In Harry's opinion, it was one of the better, healthier ways to keep one's head on one's shoulders and the mind out of depression. Something Harry would gladly point out – if anyone would think to ask him about his opinion.

Shrugging, Dean delivered their explanation with an indulging and slightly apologetic expression. His eyes showed his agreement with whatever they had discussed while Harry had been… pouring over the same thought repeatedly during dinner.

"Hermione said," Dean let him know, "we're to bring you safely to bed, so you don't do something to get yourself into trouble. Like falling asleep walking and lose your way, so you end up in Slytherin territory."

"She did what?" Honestly, Harry felt moved by it. Only Hermione could think of something like that. It did not feel all that bad to know that there were people who truly cared about him. However, he did not have to like it.

"She made us swear on our honor as wizards." Seamus grinned. Harry thought he must find it funny. Seamus appeared to wait patiently until Harry was ready to go.

"On your honor as wizards, huh?" Harry shook his head in dull amusement. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. It would not be bad having company along the way. It would be less likely for something bad to happen if he was surrounded by his friends. He also hoped the corridors would not seem as long as when Harry was on his own – with Hogwarts.

"Well," Harry decided to go with Hermione's friendly suggestion of company (even if he was not given much choice), "let's go already. I don't want to keep you away from that welcoming party they're throwing in the common room."

This party was the seventh years' responsibility, but due to the use of heavily spiked butterbeer (and a lot of dirty talk) only the sixth and seventh years were allowed to attend until the very end. Fifth years and younger were driven out of the common room about half past ten. They spent the rest of their first night hiding in their respective dormitories. Even so, it was a sight to see, or better yet to hear. Every year the silencing spells tended to dissipate around midnight. Either the students were too drunk to keep them up, or the teachers knew and tolerated these parties… at least until midnight. Then McGonagall tended to storm into the common room with that stern, but friendly, look of hers and would send the remaining students to their dorms. Harry figured that similar parties were going on in each of the House common rooms this night. He wondered if they were also shut down at midnight. After all, something like that could not possibly be kept hidden from the professors.

Harry cringed inwardly at the ruckus they were all about to face as he started to make his way toward the exit of the Hall – Neville, Dean and Seamus quietly moving along with him. Harry idly began to wonder if his three escorts questioned why Hermione thought it necessary that they keep him company. Neville ended the silence quite suddenly as he shyly asked Harry if he intended to join the party. Harry had thought the boy had overcome this part of himself during the last year. Neville had been quite confident then, quite sure of himself. Where had the Neville from the Ministry of Magic gone to now? This was the first thing Neville said to him without being spoken to first. Harry watched him silently before another yawn made him shake his head with amusement.

"No, Neville," he declined politely. "I don't think you'd want to carry me to my bed. But, if you really do want to," he said teasingly, "I'll pop in for a few moments – just a minute or so." Suddenly serious, "Actually, you can pick me up from in front of the hearth – where the party is the thickest."

"Why there?"

"Simple." Harry smirked, his eyelids drooping and staying dangerously low. "Nobody would think anyone could sleep there. So they won't try to wake me up. They'll believe I'm just too drunk to keep my eyes open." Harry blinked tiredly. "Believe me, I can sleep anywhere."

"I'll make it my thing to wake you then, Harry." Seamus put his arm around Harry's shoulder. No one noticed the slight, instinctive flinch Harry fought down instantly. He endured the comradely touch longer than he would have thought himself able. Seamus only meant well, after all. Harry would have to learn to trust people again, but he would do it later. He thought the day had given him much more to handle than one day could give.

He was already taking deep breaths of relief when he saw Professor McGonagall heading straight in their direction. The expression she wore looked as tight as the bun that adorned her graying head. Harry stopped suddenly as if in surprise; glad that Seamus let go of him. The other boy followed his gaze back to their approaching professor. At least, Harry thought, he would have an excuse for not going to the party. There would be no need to play the happy little Gryffindor for his friends.

"I think I'll have other company on my way back to the dorm, guys." The three boys just stared at the advancing woman. Harry used that opportunity to really look at his three friends, or more precisely, their expressions. He doubted that they knew anything about Harry's adventurous summer kidnapping. If they did, they would have asked him already. In addition, a story like that would not have stayed secret for very long. Every student would have heard before they ever returned to the school. However, no one seemed to know. The gazes and stares he had gotten from the student body in general were the normal one's he got every year. There had been no whispers or sneers – well, except for Malfoy. But that was another story all together.

Harry shifted his examining gaze to his head of house, he doubted that she had been given much more than vague information. Dumbledore could talk for hours and actually say nothing. Harry did not know how Dumbledore had managed to keep the press, and with it the rest of the general wizarding population, from the knowledge of his disappearance over the summer. However, he had done it; which showed that the old man was able to stop information from getting out if it was in his own best interest. Stupid manipulative bastard. His face calm, Harry continued to watch his head of house as she came to a stop right in front of their little group of Gryffindors. His friends fidgeting nervously. Harry was slightly curios, but tired – for the most part.

"You go on to your common room, gentlemen," she said in a curt tone. His friends nodded after a slight moment of hesitation, though they lingered back. Seamus ventured to inform the professor that they were supposed to be ensuring their exhausted fellow Gryffindor made it back to their common room. Neville shot carefully measured glances from his stern looking teacher to the patiently waiting Harry.

"I'm sure I'll be able to see Mr. Potter safe, Mr. Finnigan." Harry thought she sounded suspiciously thankful to have some of his fellow students looking out for him. Suspicious of his head of house, Harry started to narrow his eyes. Finding himself under a piercing gaze, he stared at her with the tired boredom he had assumed most of the day. He felt a good bit of confusion about what he could have possibly done already to deserve being called to the headmaster's office since that usually was what prompted these little talks with his head of house.

With a forbidden expression, the Headmistress sent the boys on their way before she took Harry to the side. The older woman watched impatiently as his friends made their way out of the Hall. They were barely gone when Harry found himself under the weight of her piercing gaze. Something akin to pity showed in her eyes. Harry did not like pity very much. Perhaps this was just worry? His ability to read emotions was slightly muddled. His exhaustion affected him more than his recent inability to recognize the correct colors of a person's aura. Harry refrained from responding, choosing instead to just wait and see where this talk was going to lead. After another long moment of silence, during which he was scrutinized up and down rather… uncomfortably, Harry waited for his professor to explain why she had come to him.

"You're looking ill, Mr. Potter," she announced bluntly. "Do you need to see Madam Pomfrey?" Harry blinked in surprise. He had not thought she would mention his health of all things.

"I'm not sick, Professor. I'm tired." He gave her his most innocent smile. Harry knew it would charm at least McGonagall into backing down a bit. If his personality had been more like Neville's, he could have simply averted his eyes to the floor as if finding the stones really interesting. Harry Potter was not known as shy. He stared at her, willing his professor to get on with it already and leave him be.

"Well, see to it that there isn't more, Mr. Potter." Her eyes narrowed and worry clearly showed through her stern mannerism. "If you are not feeling better in a day, see to it that you visit Madam Pomfrey. She is here for a reason."

"Yes, Professor." Harry said in his brightest and cheeriest voice he could muster. He managed to stop his eyes drooping from exhaustion.

"Be certain that you do." She looked at him as if she could make him go to the hospital wing simply by her good intentions alone.

"I'll do it, Professor." However, Harry felt he was not actually swearing to it since he kept the true meaning of his words to himself.

"Well, Mr. Potter. Down to the matter at hand." Harry waited wide eyed. A feat which he was really proud of the longer that day went on. He longed for his bed, though.

"Here. I have your schoolbooks you require for your courses, Mr. Potter."

"Thanks, Professor." Harry smiled sweetly. Was he not the nice Gryffindor they all love and adore? "Doing this for me was really nice, Professor." Her expression became warmer. She began to look less like she was going to bite someone's head off (though the bun was still just as tight). Harry hid his smirk as he accepted the obviously shrunken bag. It was small enough to easily fit in his cupped hand.

"You will want to enlarge them at an opportune moment, Mr. Potter." Harry noticed at once that the harshness was gone from her voice. Somewhere in the back of his mind he felt guilty playing with peoples' emotions like that, although he would still do it if given the choice again. It was better than long explanations and discussions about the reason he looks the way he does. He did not want to deal with the possible consequences. The Slytherin in Harry could understand the need for keeping some things secret. Hiding his emotions had helped him in the past more than he cared to admit.

"Do you know why you were not allowed to go to Diagon Alley?" The professor sounded subdued. Perhaps she really could understand what it meant for a youth to be prevented from having any fun. She had been a teacher many long years now. It was rather sad that she seemed to get all the thankless jobs Dumbledore did not want to do himself. Well, all that did not involve killing or spying. For those, Harry was sure Dumbledore used other options he had convenient. Blinking, Harry returned to the here and now.

"Yes, Professor." He took on a subdued tone for effect. "Hermione and Ron told me something of what was going on. But, I'm not sure I understand everything." He managed to look confused, innocent and pitifully curios all at the same time.

It seemed as though the professor could hardly restrain herself from patting him on his head or giving him a pity hug. She looked like she did not know exactly what to do for a moment, though Harry was certain she would return to her stern manner any moment now. He did not want to hear her explanation. Harry knew the truth already, and was not interested in anything else. However, it could not hurt if he practiced his story at least once, before heading for the headmaster's office. He offered his head of house his own version with an innocent look as though he accepted every word of it.

"Headmaster Dumbledore didn't want me in Diagon Alley – even with the assistance of the Aurors – because of the dark activity and Voldemort's growing strength during the summer." Harry kept it simple and vague. This way he would not get caught that easily in contradictions. It also left him open to add or change details of his story as necessary, should he be questioned more thoroughly later on.

"I know that something is said to have happened at Privet Drive, though neither of my friends could tell me what. Do you know, Professor?" Harry tilted his head, gazing thoughtfully up to her. She was a thin woman, as tall as she was stern. There was not much difference in height between her and the Potions git. Harry could see the moment she got hold of her emotions and the stern Transfiguration teacher was back again.

"I'm not sure that I should be the one to tell you, Mr. Potter. I'm certain the Headmaster would like to talk to you himself." Her eyes widened only slightly and she pressed her lips together, barely visible, but Harry noticed.


	22. Chapter 21 : Open Questions

**Title:** Harry Potter and the Summer's Secret

_**Author:** Japhu _

_**Beta reader:** Chameleon_

_**Pairing:** HPSS_

_**Rating:** R_

_**Disclaimer:** I own nothing of Harry Potter and his world and don't make any money with it._

_**Summary: **For one week in summer Harry disappears without trace. When he comes back he claims to have no memory. But something happened and it changed him. It remains to be seen if for the better or the worse. (will be HPSS)_

_**Category:** action/adventure/angst_

_**Feedback:** highly appreciated_

* * *

**Chapter 21 – Open Questions**

Harry and Professor McGonagall stood in the Great Hall of Hogwarts. Their 'little talk' was beginning to grate on Harry's nerves. He still did not know what she really wanted from him. Harry was so tired and simply wanted to get to his soft warm bed in Gryffindor Tower.

"Have you read your OWL's letter, Mr. Potter?" Harry frowned at the sudden change of topic but did not get the chance to answer. His professor suddenly seemed in a hurry to get this talk done, for whatever reason.

"I wanted to talk to you, Mr. Potter, before you got your lesson plan. I have to say that I'm really—" Both their heads jerked around when a yell of pain echoed through the castle and a low rumbling followed it. Everything went quiet for an instant before hurried footsteps reverberated along with the sounds of whimpering cries and yells for help. Professor McGonagall did not take long to decide. She turned back to Harry with a snap that threatened to dislodge the tight bun on her head and shoot it like a bullet straight across the Hall. Responding to the echoing calls for help, her head jerked first in this and then in the other direction with an abruptness and force that Harry thought would cause her to become the next nearly headless or headless being in Hogwarts.

Watching detached, Harry was not moving after living past the first fright. He was just too tired to care about anything but sleep. Any other year he would have gone completely Gryffindor in attempts to try to save and rescue everyone. Even knowing that there were other people able to help faster and in better ways would not have stopped him then. His saving people thing was to much a part of him. It was ingrained in every cell of his body. Harry watched with almost clinical interest as his professor paled considerably. She stood observing the doors to the Hall with urgency, almost frightened, before she turned a penetrating glare at him – one that demanded to know what was going on in his head.

"We will have that talk later on, Mr. Potter. Please go to the headmaster's office now. I'm sure you know the way by now without losing yourself." She did not give him time to answer. Her presence was demanded elsewhere and she had to hurry. She knew that Harry was well acquainted with the location of the headmaster's office. He did not need her to guide him. "The password is 'jelly bean'. He is awaiting you, Mr. Potter. Hurry and don't take detours on your way."

Harry found it difficult to catch all the information she fired down at him. He thought about asking her to repeat herself. However, he did not think she would be too amused with his inability to pay complete attention due to the fact that he was asleep on his feet. He simply nodded when she seemed to wait for a reaction from him. At that moment, the doors to the great hall burst open. A clearly distraught fifth year Ravenclaw prefect rushed in, stumbling. He yelled something incoherently about falling, moving and stairs.

A tired blink, and barely a breath later, student and teacher were gone. Harry found himself looking around a suddenly deserted hall, left to consider what he should do now. Exhaustion tugging harshly at him, he wondered if it would be all right for him to just sleep on one of the benches here. It was only then that his mind processed what his professor wanted him to do. Harry gritted his teeth. Now, he felt truly welcomed, though it was really a bit to soon for his liking. It seemed it would not have taken much more and Dumbledore would have actually been standing at the castle's entrance upon Harry's arrival.

Suppressing a yawn, Harry opened the buttons on his robes to allow himself to breathe a bit easier. He should have bought new ones. They were not only to short for him, but they were also really tight around his chest making it difficult to take a deep breath. They resembled more of a dress than robes, that did not go well with the image Harry had of himself. At the very least, he would need to enlarge them a bit so he could move more easily in them.

As slowly as Harry could, his hands shoved into his trousers' pockets, he followed his head of house out of the hall. His breath even and his eyes falling shut once again, Harry listened to the hollow sound his shoes made on the stones. He bit his lips as a slightly forlorn expression crawled upon his face. He did not want to talk to Albus Dumbledore. That man would ask questions Harry could not answer satisfyingly, and – as tired as he was – he could not think clearly. Sighing as he forced his eyes to stay open, Harry glanced up and down the silent corridor. For a brief moment he wondered what had happened to the student who had fallen down the stairs. Without further thought, he moved on down the corridor in the direction of the headmaster's office.

His thoughts now drifting to his headmaster, Harry yawned until tears welled up in his eyes and the air cracked dangerously in his ears. Dumbledore had waited for weeks during the summer. If he had to talk to him that urgently, he could have done it every day for the past month. So why could the old coot not wait until Harry had slept through the night? Not a sound was to be heard beyond Harry's steady tap-slurp-tap as he made his way step by slow step. Tap when he put forward his left foot and slurp when the right one, whose shoe had a loose bottom, followed. It was a hypnotic sound – until it stopped.

Suddenly, on his way to the headmaster's office, Harry stopped dead between two steps – one foot remaining motionless in the air. A sudden realization made Harry's eyes widen then narrow to angry slits. Despite his exhaustion, he took a moment to think and instantly changed his mind and direction as the realization of Dumbledore's tactics hit him full force. _What a manipulative bastard!_ His new determination showed on his face as he put his foot resolutely down in the opposite direction. Dumbledore would think it easy to use Legilimency on him while he is in a state of total exhaustion. Obviously, the coot thought Harry would jump when he said jump. Well, he would be in for a surprise then. Since he could not openly resist, a bit of passive disregard might work – until the morrow at least.

Harry glanced down the empty corridor that led to the headmaster's office. If he continued on, he would reach the entrance to the office in only a few more moments. Harry decided that the almighty headmaster's interrogation would have to wait until Harry felt in the mood. He wanted to feel more like himself before he allowed Dumbledore the chance for a peep show into his mind. Dumbledore knew about most of what happened in this castle – though not everything. Harry had once believed the old man was all knowing. Recent events; however, had changed that view. He now knew that the castle was; in fact, a dangerous unknown.

Harry hurried to follow the route to the Gryffindor common room. He did not want to meet anyone now, of all times. He did not want to cross a teacher's path. Harry preferred a good night's sleep. He would deal with adults tomorrow – if need be – if given the choice. Frowning, Harry increased his pace until he could see the Fat Lady's portrait guarding the common room's entrance.

Harry swallowed heavily, ignoring the curios looks he got from all around. Sometimes he felt like burning all those nosy portraits. He wondered idly which, if any, of the portraits he had passed on the way here were, at this very moment, informing Dumbledore of his insolent behavior. Or, he wondered, were they intrinsically linked to the castle? Would they follow the castle's wishes and needs if they conflicted with the headmaster's? After all, the portraits of the former headmasters in Dumbledore's office had said that they were obligated to assist the current headmaster.

Anyway, at that moment Harry suddenly felt really stupid. He could get into the headmaster's office, but not into his own common room! A glance at the Fat Lady's sweetly smiling face told him that she would not let him in without the password. He did not even ask her. Growing flustered, Harry blew a strand of hair out of his face and glared darkly at the portrait. The longer he stood out here the bigger his chance to get caught by a professor or Filch.

Finally, after several minutes Harry decided to resort to Muggle means to gain access. He began to pound against the portrait with a cool smile and a watchful eye; interested in how this bickering woman would react. It took only an instant for the pink clad woman to get over the shock that someone was actually 'beating' her. As soon as her shock wore off, she began to yell as if the Dark Lord personally had come to make her acquaintance.

Sighing, Harry ignored her and bit his lip to keep from cursing the painted woman. Lazily, he leaned against the wall next to her, continuing his steady knocking with an overall bored expression. He thought distantly that she certainly must have been a difficult person to have been around during her real life.

"For Merlin's sake, woman! You can leave your goddamn picture, so do it if you can't bear it, or open this door." Harry delivered an especially hard blow directly at her middle as a third year poked his head out curiously – avoiding the blow by a hair's breath. He backed away, wide eyed, when he saw Harry Potter leaning heavily against the wall with a clearly angered expression flittering across his face. Harry's face quickly changed to a very innocent and open smile.

"It's really fortunate for me that you opened the portrait." Harry searched his mind for the boy's name but could not remember. He had seen him in the company of the younger Creevey last year. Silently nodding, the boy cautiously stepped aside as Harry edged into the common room. Harry did not even spare a glance at the still spluttering lady, the back of which now held the younger boy's stunned look.

"Ignore her," he said to the boy. It seemed as if the startled third year wanted to have a closer look at the portrait. "She's just in a lousy mood. I wouldn't go out there if I were you, at least for now." Harry winked, grinning. The boy's face glowed from the attention of the Boy-Who-Lived as he stepped back into the Gryffindor common room. Following him with his eyes, Harry was sure rumors about his behavior towards the portrait would flow soon enough. He did not really care. At least he was on the right side of the portrait now.

As soon as Harry stepped into the Gryffindor common room, the level of noise assaulting his ears increased dramatically. Harry had to admit, he would be hard pressed to find sleep in this… madness. It would be hours before the younger years would be banned to their dorms; even so, everyone seemed to be having a bit too much fun already. Carefully scanning the room for his friends' faces, Harry found them at the same time they noticed him. Hermione was already preparing to give him (if her look was an indicator) a piece of her mind; even though her relief was obvious to everyone who knew her.

"What did Professor McGonagall want, Harry?"

"Oh," Harry frowned, yawning, and winked. "She just wanted to talk to me about my lesson plan I think. But, she got called away before I knew what that was about. Apparently, some first year experienced the moving stairs quite personally."

"Yeah." Ron stopped next to him, a butterbeer already in his hand. "There was a commotion out there." Ron looked pleased to impart his knowledge on his friends. "Some Ravenclaw stumbled down the stairs when they moved suddenly… a first year I think. I have heard that he broke a leg." He gulped down a swig of the smuggled substance. "Well, they aren't so clever, are they?"

"You're really mean today, Ron." Hermione shook her head. Harry blinked tiredly and suppressed a flinch when Seamus put his arm around his shoulder.

"Well, he couldn't have known that the stairs shudder before they move. It was a first year. And anyway, Madam Pomfrey will have him up and about soon enough." The Irish boy grinned.

"He should have read _Hogwarts, A History_," Hermione murmured quietly at the same time.

"How'd you hear of it?" Harry looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

"News travels fast, Harry – you know?" Dean glanced back at where the second round of butterbeer – unspiked still – was being handed out. Seamus' grin widened.

"Yes. You know, I heard a rumor that you were beating up the Fat Lady."

"Not really." Harry watched them carefully. This new unity among his dorm mates still seemed a bit sudden for his overworked mind. "I just hoped someone would hear me."

"Well, Harry, tomorrow the whole school will think that you have been attacking the poor Fat Lady."

"Yeah, you aren't waiting long to give your reputation a boost." With this, Harry went quiet. He did not want to keep talking about it. He had only been knocking. This newest rumor would die down soon enough. Anyway, Harry did not feel like talking anymore now.

"You know guys, you're talking too much." With both hands he shooed them away. He breathed deeply when at least Dean and Seamus left him, with a last laugh, to have a go at the party. Neville lingered as if unsure what to do. He never seemed much of a party person. Harry was certain that the quiet boy would all too soon follow him up to their dormitory.

"You don't have to stay with me, Ron." Harry grinned when he saw Ron's longing look.

"You're sure, mate?" Ron looked hopeful to ignore his conscience for a short time. "I'd really like to have a look at the party."

"Then have a look." Harry shrugged. "In a few minutes I'll be doing nothing but snoring. I'm sure I can do that on my own." Softly, but decidedly, Harry pushed his friend into the mass of partying students. "I won't do anything, I swear. And if I have any problems finding my bed, I'll give you a call." Harry then turned and looked imploringly at Hermione. He took her back into a niche where they could get some quiet.

"Could you do me a favor, Hermione?" Harry asked as soon as she was close enough that no one else could overhear them.

"Was it something Professor McGonagall wanted?"

"No, Hermione, nothing of that sort." Harry shook his head. He would have to work hard to convince her that he spoke the truth. It seemed as though Hermione had gotten over her naive belief that her friends always told the truth – at least him.

"I just want you to occupy Neville a bit for me. Please."

"Neville?" she frowned, not understanding where he was leading.

"Yes – please." Harry looked pleadingly at her. "He's going to come up in a few minutes. He's not one to stay here."

"Why, Harry? What do you want to do up there?"

"Hermione!" Harry's voice rang with obvious hurt. "What do you think of me? I'd just like to have some quiet before I go to bed, you know." For a moment longer she looked searchingly into his eyes. Harry held her gaze. Hermione seemed to believe his eyes showed nothing but the truth, just as everyone else thought. Harry smiled at her, raising a brow questioningly.

"Alright, Hermione? You're doing it?"

"How long?" She nodded with a sigh as though she had known she would do it either way beforehand.

"One hour? A half?"

"I'll just talk to him about Herbology. I have some questions on that for him anyway." Now, she was the one smiling. "An hour is fine, Harry." Her eyes did not let go of him.

"Thanks a lot." Harry said and turned to leave.

"Harry?" She held him back. "You'll tell me what you've done, tomorrow – all right?" It took Harry a moment to reply to her knowing smile. Then he nodded.

"Of course, Hermione." He smiled. "I'll tell you." Harry watched silently as Hermione engaged Neville in a lively conversation about potting and growing plants. Sighing, he made his way to the stairs, ascending them thoughtfully.

Once inside the dimly lit dormitory, he closed the door heavily, silently leaning against it. He gave the room a once over before walking over to where his trunk was sitting at the foot of his – oh so lovely – four poster bed. As much as he would have liked to collapse onto his bed, one thing was left to do before he could let himself sink into oblivion. As soon as Hogwarts had been done with him earlier this evening, a lingering question had entered his head. He had recognized the abrupt diminishing of his magical power.

Sinking heavily onto his knees, Harry pulled his trunk over to him. He opened the lid with a solemn and slightly apprehensive expression and rummaged around under Dudley's clothes. He searched for the one thing he needed to ensure the stupid castle had done at least something that could have a positive effect. If he was correct, the castle had solved the last stumbling block to protecting his secret.

For a moment he just stared at his wand. During the last weeks, Harry had become a bit apprehensive about using it. However, now (thanks to the castle) his magic was down several levels. He was still stronger than before, but manageable for him. It should be for his wand also, should it not? His apprehension had not really diminished, though. If not for the castle's interference with his newly gained magic (he felt the block that separated him from the biggest part of it) Harry would not even try to use it, least of all anywhere near people he did not want to die.

Memories of that day that changed everything flashed through his mind. The pain, confusion and fear as tangible now as it had been then. The moment he had felt his mind breaking free from Voldemort's grasp, Harry had scrambled away in a mad dash for his wand he vaguely remembered having seen it near that snake's badly mauled body. He had to admit it had been an exhilarating feeling when the magic finally broke through and the pain ebbed away almost instantly to be overridden by pure bliss. That was until he had looked around him to see the mess he had created – even if it had been Death Eaters. They simply lingered about, too shocked to move once they saw their master's body lying crumbled and lifeless on the ground and Harry Potter standing there in all his shining glory.

Harry tilted his head, grimacing slightly. Glory had not been too much involved if he remembered his bloody and bruised appearance. It could have been worse – much worse. He shuddered to think of the other plans old Voldemort had idly furthered in his head. He was a crazy bastard and it made Harry want to vomit to think he had his… essence somewhere in his mind.

Shaking his head, Harry remembered what had dragged him into this little trip down memory lane. Indecisively he glanced down at his inconspicuous looking wizarding inventory. It had taken a while for him to realize why his wand did not work appropriately. It took his wand literally bursting from his hand with so much force that it left the palm red and raw, and the magic still pouring out of him in painful blinding waves, for him to understand the truth.

There had been a moment he had feared that Voldemort had somehow taken away his magic during whatever it was he wanted to accomplish. Harry shuddered again. He had a fair guess as to what that had been and it was not something that promised a healthy future for the last descendent of the Potter family.

After Harry had escaped he had not been able to use his wand once, not that he had really tried after the first time. After all, there still was the the ministry to reckon with. However, it seemed to be safer and easier to master his magic while leaving his wand out of it anyway. To control his power through his wand was impossible, even the pretence of control seemed to be nonexistent… or it had been.

Harry hoped that problem was rectified now. Using his wand had become a two edged sword… his amazing magical strength developed so rapidly that Harry had no inkling of how to keep up with it. Whether Hogwarts had intended it or not, by containing a huge part of his newly awoken power it made it possible for Harry to conceal his current situation. What had been a huge stumbling block to hiding his plans from those too nosy for their own good was hopefully no longer an issue.

With less magical energy to control, Harry felt that he would be able to control its release. His wand should not explode from his hand and reveal what Harry did not want to be revealed just yet… if ever. It certainly would give things away if his wand was to suddenly shoot from his hand in a sudden burst of uncontrolled magic. It would be great if wandless magic did not have to be the only option in order to use his power.

With a deep breath, Harry reached out for the dark tool. His hand hovered above it trembling. Harry bit his lip in anticipation. His mind wandered back to Tom Riddle. Harry knew that, right now, he didn't really need the extra magical power he had acquired over the summer. He did not find it difficult to keep Tom in the mental prison he had created for him. Harry was lucky to have increased the security wards around it before the castle had interfered with his magic. Now, there was no way Harry could expend extra magical strength in his efforts to contain Riddle's soul in his mind. There was no extra magical strength left for that. He had to hope that the confines he had constructed would be enough until the castle decided to give him back what was his.

Harry knew that, later, he would need all the magical strength he could muster. Destroying Voldemort, finally and completely, would take all the power he could gather. There would be no miraculous return for the evil bastard this time. No Quirrel with his weak mind and smelly turban. No cowardly rat faced Wormtail; willing to give up a hand for his lord and master. This time, there would be no coming back. Harry intended to destroy him – once and for all. For that, he would need magic – a lot of magic. For now though he needed to go to classes. Tomorrow, Harry knew his classes would begin. For that, he required the use of his wand. If he did not use his wand in his lessons, people would become suspicious.

His fingers felt the familiar buzz of magic as he held his hand directly over his wand. It was just the same tingle he had felt that first day in Ollivander's shop. That first time he had touched the wonderful wooden stick. However, now it was different. Then again, he was not touching it.

He would have to test his magic before he could use his wand in front of his friends or in classes. He would have to touch it. He would have to hold it. He would have to find his Gryffindor courage and attempt that which he had been afraid of since summer. Harry could not avoid something as simple as taking up his wand. His courage began to wane as he remembered, again, the last time he had tried to do a spell with it; a lot of things had gone to hell.

Taking another deep breath, Harry did not hesitate any longer. He gripped his wand tightly until the knuckles turned white.


	23. Chapter 22 : Night's Call

**Title:** Harry Potter and the Summer's Secret

_**Author:** Japhu _

_**Beta reader:** Chameleon_

_**Pairing:** HPSS_

_**Rating:** R_

_**Disclaimer:** I own nothing of Harry Potter and his world and don't make any money with it._

_**Summary: **For one week in summer Harry disappears without trace. When he comes back he claims to have no memory. But something happened and it changed him. It remains to be seen if for the better or the worse. (will be HPSS)_

_**Category:** action/adventure/angst_

_**Feedback:** highly appreciated_

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**Chapter 22 – Night's Call**

Nothing happened. For a long moment Harry just sat on the floor of the sixth year boys' dorm of Gryffindor Tower staring at the wand in his hand. The increased tingling and rush of air that indicated a build up of magic and preceded the loss of control he had experienced that terrible day over the summer failed to appear. Frowning slightly, Harry brought the wand near to examine it closely. The expected tickle in the palm of his hand was hardly noticeable, and he could not see the magical aura of his wand. It would take a while for him to become accustomed to it; it left a bitter taste in his mouth. All his attempts to cope with his magic and to get used to it during the summer were wasted now. Everything was different now; he had to start almost from the beginning.

However, it would not do any good, if he went to classes tomorrow or had a run in with Malfoy. It might not be such a good idea to make him explode… splattering all his precious pureblood right across the corridor. It would be a delight to watch him squirm, though. Harry's lips twitched while he looked around to decide what he should do now. He needed to test his wand on something less conspicuous than Malfoy (as pleasant a thought as that might be). His brows rose when his gaze fell onto an especially gross, lumpy bag of Dudley's old shirts in the midst of his trunk.

Grinning playfully, Harry thought the time right to get some decent clothing. Perhaps it would work, if not it was not a tragedy to loose some of those disgusting rags. Thoughtfully, Harry bit his lip. For classes it would be more useful to try it with a whisper, but he would see if his spell casting worked wordlessly nevertheless… for in the corridors. All he had to do was to concentrate, to aim right and carrying out the right wand movement – and hope it would work.

Harry's mouth opened to word the spell. He thought about the correct wand movement and prepared to carry it out when his wand started vibrating visibly. Transfixed, he watched the magic working without him ever actually uttering the words. The shirt started shrinking so rapidly that the cloth was already as small as a hand puppet's when Harry looked at it. With a horrible sound of tearing fabric it was literally ripped into shreds.

Tilting his head, Harry scrutinized the mess he had created with a thoughtful frown. It was not what he had wanted, but it came not unexpected either. For his first real attempt in a long time to alter something other than air using his wand, it was not that bad. At least, his shirt had not exploded, burst into flames or disappeared into nothingness. Blinking tiredly, Harry concluded that perhaps he had a bit more magic left than he had previously thought. It seemed he needed quite a bit of practice, though.

No time like the present. This time Harry concentrated on his magic hoping to control it better. He did not need great amounts of power to perform a simple shrinking spell. He tried to hold the magic in until the appropriate moment; releasing it only after he spoke the last syllable of the spell.

As soon as he set the spell into motion he knew that something was amiss. A frown settled on his face as he looked into the depths of his trunk. Harry took his only other robe from the trunk with two fingers and held it at arms length to observe. It seemed his entire wardrobe was shrunk quite a bit. At least now they would not look like he wore a tent. He had to remember to aim better. Looking down at himself, Harry yawned as he released a sigh of relief. The robes he wore seemed to still be alright. Thank Merlin for small wonders.

At least now his magic did not wreak havoc – well, not as much as before. After all, they were supposed to shrink. He would rather have a miniature classmate then one whose body's parts were ripped apart and scattered all around the room… not counting Malfoy.

Weighing his wand loosely in his hand, Harry thought about his need to practice controlling those little changes in his magic. He knew that he must find the right amount of magic to use with his wand. If he gave only half an ounce to much, it could turn out very bad. He sat back for a moment to think. It was amazing how much of his magic the castle had actually blocked off from him. It was down right scary to think about how much magic he had at his disposal… or did have until today. Where was his limit?

Harry was certain that he could gather even more energy to make his magic work, not necessary for a simple _Reducto_, but nevertheless. Closing his eyes, Harry felt deep within him the constant throb of magic. It gathered distinctively and filled up the power points he had built to keep it from overflowing.

Deep in thought, Harry followed the paths of energy through his body until they joined in his hands. The sensation made his fingertips tingle – extremely sensitive to touch. Even with his eyes closed, Harry could see the tiny sparks of magic coming off of the tips of his fingers. However, his wand remained dormant; sparks not emanating from his wand as they were supposed to.

It required a great deal of effort and control to convince his magic to flow only through his wand. After all, Harry had found wandless magic a whole lot easier since his magic had changed so surprisingly.

It was simple, really. It was so much easier to allow his own magic to just directly interact with the magic of the object he wanted to change. Even if Harry could not see the magic anymore, now that he knew it was there, it was not hard to imagine his magic interacting with the magic inherent in whatever he aimed his wand at. He had done it for the second part of his summer mostly with success.

The pulse of his magic filled him with pure euphoria. It made him giddy like a child on his first merry-go-round. The rhythm of energy was steady and strong and ran through his whole body over and over again. It was hard to stop gathering even more magic, especially when he really did not want to.

Before Harry could actually halt his magic of his own accord everything suddenly stopped. It was as if a door had closed and he had been separated from his surroundings – from his source. A dull pain throbbed in his veins when no more magic was forthcoming and the continuous flow had been abruptly interrupted.

Harry gritted his teeth and waited for the wave of pain to pass. Apparently, he had reached the point where the castle would close him off from his magic. If he was honest with himself, though, Harry had to admit that – for an instant – he had been at his limit of what he could handle without the danger of loosing control. Frowning, he opened his eyes, his body tingling with magic just within his control.

Harry would have to be careful, but even a tiny part of what he could gather now should be sufficient for most spells he would need to do during the coming school year. Although he felt an intense pleasure holding as much power as he possibly could.

Harry wondered if Dumbledore felt that way whenever he made people dance on strings. Maybe that was the pull Voldemort had felt – this powerful, vibrating energy. One would go crazy holding it in but not releasing it. A lot of people said that Dumbledore had lost his marbles a long way back. And Voldemort? Well it went without saying that there never had been marbles. Harry suddenly realized that he was lucky the castle had intervened. For whatever reason – it had actually taken only that part of his changed magic which prevented him from keeping his head upright.

Harry forced himself to let it return freely to where he had gathered it from. It was with relief he sensed the energy leaving him as it merged back with his surroundings, imbuing everything as it left his body like a soft exhale of air after a deep breath.

Harry noticed he had more control over his net of power points now. It was easier to access the continuous flow without having it erupting over his head, and he still gathered his magic as much from his surroundings as from his own body.

Harry did not think much about that fact at all. Hell, until this summer he had believed magic was magic. Point. Harry did not know if there were different forms of wandless magic or if doing wandless magic did not necessarily mean that one could actively use the surrounding magic. After all, even normal witches' and wizards' magic whirled around their environment searching and interfering with other magic. The only difference between them and Harry was that they did not know of it. They could not see it and as such could not influence the magic. Perhaps, it would be possible for others to draw magic from their surroundings as well if only they were able to see the magic.

Until now, the Red Robes were the only other wizards that Harry was certain could also do it… and possibly the joke of a DADA teacher. He had actively suppressed his aura, which he could not have done if he had not been able to see it.

Harry frowned. He was not oblivious to the fact that wandless magic was said to be really rare, but it could not be that strange an ability. After all, there had been a lot of red robed men in Voldemort's lair He shivered thinking about all of them surrounding him and snake face chanting and waiting for something.

Harry believed those Red Robes were quite a bit stronger than ordinary wizards. Of course they were, they could do wandless magic after all. They had been strong enough to nearly catch him (if Snape had not interfered – again) but they had not even made an effort to do so. Harry only knew of two other people who could do something like that – Dumbledore and of course Tom – otherwise that nice fellow would not be able to even try to escape his prison. However, it was anybody's guess as to why a violation of Harry's mind (when Voldemort had tried to possess him) led to him having suddenly quite the amount of wandless magic for his use with easier access than wand magic.

Had it been another time and involving another matter, Harry would have asked the headmaster first. He could have explained some things. He honestly believed that Dumbledore was able to gather magic from his surrounding. After all, the old man was able to do wandless magic. Harry had no reason to believe otherwise. They had never talked about something like that. Why should they have? There had never been a reason to … and with lots of other secrets the man had held, it would have been questionable if he would have told him anyhow. Now though, those considerations were for naught. Harry could not trust that meddling old coot anymore – never again.

Sighing, he turned his attention back to the task at hand. Harry just needed his magic to work through his wand. As easy as it was to imagine that, having it actually work was a lot harder. His hands shook with exhaustion when the magic flew out of them.

Harry shifted slightly and looked at his shrunken wardrobe. He needed to get them back to normal. Shrinking worked alright, as long as he held his power back a bit, but now how to enlarge them?

Wobbly, Harry straightened himself and concentrated. He drew only a bit of his magic from the power points. He sensed it flowing through the channels, buzzing with energy, into his hands and from them into his wand … into his wand. He frowned, aimed and whispered the correct incantation. There was no sign of his magic working through his wand. It had not worked at all. The magic was still humming in his hands.

His robes had not done anything at all. They were still small enough that they could be used only as a doll's clothes. Harry scoffed. No magic at all, that was even better. In no time there would be rumors of Harry Potter becoming a squib and working hand in hand with Filch and his nosy four legs. Merlin! Harry crumpled the robe in his fist. Why couldn't his magic work for once like it did for other people?

Harry threw the small robe with all his might and watched it with knitted brows lying inconspicuously only a few feet in front of the closed door. It had to be manageable somehow. He had to be able to rely on his magic in some ways at least!

His jaw cracked painfully and he let his eyes fall close for a moment. Rubbing his eyes, Harry decided that after one other attempt to restore his clothes he would call it a night and maybe let Hermione have a go at them. His own magic was no good.

Harry's "Engorgio!" was sharp and went with a short lived, angered swish of his wand when he hurled his magic toward the door to his robe. In the instant in which he felt his wand working – this time he knew he had done it right – Harry was aware that he had messed up again, because the door opened in the same moment.

With a heavy sigh Harry let his eyes fall close and dropped bonelessly backwards. It seemed Harry was not the only one who did not know what to do when he actually tried to actively restrain his magic from working as he was used to.

"I'm sorry, Neville." He breathed without looking at the stunned boy, whose outer robe pooled gracelessly on the ground, to big to not slip above his shoulders when the enlargement charm hit him and did its work.

"Uh,… Harry?" unsure of himself Harry's dorm mate stepped gingerly out of his robes.

"Sorry you took it Neville." Grimacing, Harry lifted himself up to his elbows. "The spell was supposed to hit my robe." Harry pointed to the small cloth in front of his friend's feet. "I have mistakenly shrunken it."

"It's okay, Harry." Swallowing, Neville looked down and fingered his own robe. With both hands the boy held it away from him. "Can you change it back?"

Harry frowned. His magic was quite thoroughly working if he just could get his wand to agree with him. It seemed to be an overall problem. Everything should be fine for the time being. He had to remember in class to use always less magic than he would originally think he had to – a lot less.

"Er… I think it's better you let Hermione do that in the morning." Harry smiled apologetically. "I'm really sorry, Neville. I got a bit carried away." The robe Neville held in his arms was big enough to substitute for the bed hangings.

Fingering his own clothes, which were either to small or to big to wear, Harry hoped he could get them back to normal right before breakfast. Merlin! He just could not concentrate. Throwing his clothes into his trunk, Harry closed the lid and got slowly to his feet.

Neville shrugged silently, his cheeks tinged pink, and set down on his bed. "What were you doing?"

"Practicing, you know?" Harry stood wobbly. He had to catch himself on the post to avoid stumbling to the ground. Laying the wand down on his nightstand, Harry blinked. "Exercising. Just to get the feeling back after those months of doing no magic at all."

"Oh,… I understand." Although it was obvious that Neville did not understand at all. It was probably good that the boy had interrupted. Harry felt dead on his feet.

Harry would have to try his magic again tomorrow when he could sneak away from his friends for a moment. Of course he could always give them to the first year with the little doll, who had been running in circles and cried for her mother. Either way, Harry would hold himself back during the lessons. He needed his wand to work properly before he actually did magic in front of the professors. He could experiment with his wand in the afternoon and the whole weekend. It did not happen often enough, that one was lucky to start the school year on a friday. Only one day of classes and he could take a breath.

Yawning, Harry fell onto his bed. Finally, the day was over and he could try to catch some sleep. Maybe tomorrow his world had a better outlook. He could figure out what the castle had done to him. Breathing deeply, Harry felt his body relax and sinking deeper into the pillows, in his nose the clear smell of clean linen.

"You are not sleeping in your robes, are you?"

"Of course not, Neville." Harry blinked. "I'm just catching my breath." Grumbling inaudibly, he got up again, gathered his nightclothes and pulled his sweater above his head before stopping in mid motion, becoming aware of Neville watching him curiously.

"I think I'll take a shower after all." Harry mumbled and trudged sluggishly towards the bath.

Harry halted only in the shower stall itself, closed the curtain and leaned heavily against the wall, hitting the wall twice with the back of his head and a dull thud. His breath tremulous, Harry changed quickly into his pajamas without anyone getting to see the violet mark on his hip. He had barely remembered in time. For the future Harry needed to think of something to disguise it.

When Harry shuffled back into the dorm Neville had already snuggled up comfortably in his four poster, a plant on his night table (possibly life-threatening) and his toad on his bed-spread, petting it softly with a far away look. For a moment Harry wondered if Trevor was a magical toad, or if those animals generally lived that long. Harry didn't know. His eyes burnt and Harry knew that they looked dangerously red. If just another vessel popped open he thought the blood would start to flow down his cheeks like crimson tears.

"Harry?" Neville ended his thoughts quite abruptly. "Can I ask you something?"

Harry stumbled upon this unexpected disturbance in his quiet world of half dreaming half being. Looking back, Harry blinked in his friend's expectant face and nodded, leaning heavily against the bedpost.

"Sure, but please… tomorrow, Neville." Harry let himself fall onto the bed, again. "I really need to sleep now. Let's talk tomorrow, all right?"

"Okay, Harry." Came it somehow subdued from the other bed, but it did not matter to Harry.

"Merlin!" Relief was obvious in Harry's voice when he lay down and his eyes closed almost without him noticing, not giving a thought about Neville's certainly toad or plant related question.

"G'night, Nev'." Harry murmured sleepily and turned into his sheets, taking his blanket with him to curl himself up comfortingly. He did not even bother to close the curtains.

"Good night, Harry." Neville whispered, watching his dorm mate thoughtfully, but Harry did not hear or see anymore. He was well away in the land of dreams and didn't hear of feel anything for a few highly treasured hours.

When Harry opened his eyes again it had to be in the middle of the night. Darkness pressed down against the high arched windows. The light snoring from the adjoining beds was the only sound other than the dull thumb of Harry's heart.

Faintly, he remembered dreaming about choices to be done, and a sad sense of knowing that there were not any choices. For a moment he blinked into the darkness, tried to determine the shapes that had been transfigured from a starless night. It was not great to dream about choices, when the choice had been made already. But it was a hundred times better than nightmares.

Shrugging inwardly, Harry just turned to the side, pulled his quilt over his head, remembering a time when he was nothing but a small child and thought that ugly monsters with sharp gleaming teeth and incredibly large claws would spring from the shadow to rip apart whatever limb he let slide out of his blankets. It was good to be older and to have left those monsters behind, only that now he had others to deal with. Monsters, frighteningly real.

Did he do the right thing? Harry did not like to doubt himself and his decisions. He would much rather like to say that he had put down the feelings of self-consciousness, his fear to be left alone again. Although, now more than ever, everything seemed to be back.

Laying perfectly still, Harry let himself drift to wherever his thoughts drew him when a faint tingle in his mark left him gasping with surprise. His eyes shot wide open while his mind tried to follow, to catch that peculiar feeling. Was it amusement? The mark flaring up without an interference from Tom was a first.

Since Hogwarts had shut down his magic Harry felt the mark stronger than ever. Although, he still could not pinpoint from where this trace of emotion came from. Certainly not from himself. Not from Tom, either. Harry did not get any echo from Tom, as if he was in hiding. Perhaps Harry would get more often some crazy insight from the bound Death Eaters, now when his magic did not overshadow the connection of the mark.

Frowning, Harry dropped back. His fate presented puzzle over puzzle to him. He just hoped he would live long enough to find the last piece to all of them. Biting his lower lip, Harry curled up shivering.

Was it wrong to be unsure of his future? Was it wrong to fear what would come, or when he thought that he would rather fail in his task? Was it wrong to feel relief? Now, when he did not have to deal with so much power that he could bring more destruction with the magic he held in a tip of his finger than another wizard could work at all.

He had never wanted so much responsibility. When he had thought about a change Harry had hoped to… maybe kill Voldemort… or to be killed, not that he would have to live on with Tom Riddle in his head.

It had him scared to death, because Tom WAS Voldemort, even if Harry tried to suppress that thought vehemently. It was easier to hold Tom, the orphan, into his confines than the man who had brought death and despair to the whole Wizarding World and thought to kill most of the human population on the world.

Was it wrong to be afraid of the moment when the prophecy would finally come true? Harry hugged his pillow firmly in an attempt to draw comfort. He had taken the responsibility for his actions which caused these unforeseen and never wanted consequences. A lot could go wrong along the way, but now there really was not anyone who could take the prophecy into his hands and kill the Dark Lord. Now it really was just Harry and Tom… and neither can live while the other survives.


	24. Chapter 23 : New Dawn

**Title:** Harry Potter and the Summer's Secret

_**Author:** Japhu_

_**Beta reader:** Chameleon_

_**Pairing:** HPSS_

_**Rating:** R_

_**Disclaimer:** I own nothing of Harry Potter and his world and don't make any money with it._

_**Summary: **For one week in summer Harry disappears without trace. When he comes back he claims to have no memory. But something happened and it changed him. It remains to be seen if for the better or the worse. (will be HPSS)_

_**Category:** action/adventure/angst_

_**Feedback:** highly appreciated_

* * *

**Chapter 23 – New Dawn**

It had taken some time for Harry to fall asleep after those morbid thoughts went through his head. However, when he finally slept, Harry did not move even once, lying motionless amidst his cushions like a corpse. Only when the magical alarm clock announced it time to get ready and Seamus leaped upon his bed, Harry fought his sleep crustedeyes open.

Brightly grinning, Seamus – in a good mood after a good night's sleep – jumped twice before he became aware of Harry's glare and got out of the way. Having a good laugh, Seamus was barely fast enough to avoid the feeble attempt of his sleepy friend to swat the unwanted guest aside.

Sighing silently, Harry curled up again. He did not like Seamus or anyone else in the morning. The awakening came always to abrupt, ripping him away from his tranquility – that was, when he did not have one of his bad dreams… or visions… or whatever else fate would come up with.

Essentially, Harry liked the night. He breathed the calm that lay above everything; the darkness, hiding all of these nasty little surprises that blazed dangerously in the light of the day. However, as life always was, all things had a good and a bad side. During the night, the shadows became alive. For Harry it was not only a children's tale. It was reality. Everything felt more real; his responsibility for the Wizarding World's future, his fear to break under the task he had loaded upon his shoulders, the consequences of failing, and the danger for his and his friends' lives. Harry could very well hide in the darkness, but he could not hide from himself.

During the day, Harry could concentrate on keeping his mind on the important things. He reminded himself to follow the path he had inevitably chosen to stay on until the very end. The night had its own rights.

Harry rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, knowing at one point he had to get up. It would be better to be prepared.

"Harry!" His bed shuddered as if a mountain troll did a tap dance on it when it only was Seamus. "Are you up?"

"Sure I am." Harry sat up abruptly, not wanting to have cold water pouring down his face at the first day of school. "Go wake Ron." Irritably, Harry wished him away.

"No way, Harry. Ron's your responsibility. You know it." Nodding, Harry unconsciously scratched his hip where the mark sat completely inconspicuous. Yes, he knew it. His friends were his responsibility.

"We're not fast enough to get out of the way." Seamus winked. "Don't take too long, anyway. We're getting our lesson plans this breakfast."

"I'll think of it." Harry said absent mindedly. Last night he had felt his mark coming to life on its own. He had the feeling that, even now, the connection he had through the mark to the bound Death Eaters was continuously getting stronger and more pronounced.

Harry had not felt the connection to the mark so clear since… ever. There had always been his magic he had to suppress to concentrate halfway on its trace. Now though, the way through the bond was frighteningly clear, and it felt more real than it ever had. Harry took a moment to think, wondering if the Death Eaters were not able to catch random thoughts of his own, as he could their's more often than not. Distracting as it was, he still could not control anything that happened through the bond. Harry did not know the way it worked, what the bond was supposed to do. Tom would hardly answer if he asked.

Harry pulled at a strand of unruly black hair. He would find a way to deal with this problem as he did with everything else. The mark was only one problem among many and Harry needed to figure out all of them. There had to be books about bonds and mind reading and a lot of stuff related to those topics. With his fingers Harry combed his hair back. It would not lie flatter if he bothered with a real brush.

Trying to keep his thinking positive, Harry remembered that not all was as bad as it seemed in broad daylight. The day too had more than one side. Harry would need to remind himself to keep from both, night and day, only the positive. He did not need to make his life darker and more depressing than it already was.

Throwing a cautious glance out of the high arched window, Harry smiled serenely. Having the sun out again, even if it was behind a rapidly growing phalanx of dark towering clouds drawing near, was not all as bad as people liked to make it out to be. For one, he had made it through another night. Harry had not dreamt once this night, at least he could not remember doing so. Secondly, he would have another day alive. With relief his head fell back onto the pillow before, with a wide yawn, he leapt to his feet an instant later, stretching when he went on his way.

After a short trip to the bath, where he overtook Seamus and Dean, Harry glanced to were Ron snored deeply. Heaving a breath, he went to his trunk, searching for something to wear.

"Are you awake?" Harry asked, glancing up doubtfully.

Not agreeing to anything, a grumbling Ron curled up further under his thick blanket, nearly disappearing. Only his hair seemed to set the pillow on fire, sticking out in every direction as much as Harry's did during the day. Luckily for Ron, his hair only did it well into the night and kept its appearance all day long. Although, hair staying hair, Ron's eyes had not opened once since Seamus had pounced upon Harry rather heavily.

Harry sighed while slipping into his only shirt that did not stuck on his small finger. If he wanted to have something other to wear, he would have to repeat yesterday's whole procedure in some free moment. Cautiously, Harry glanced at his wand. It did not work the way it should. Not only did his wand depend on the amount of power it had to control, it seemed as if his magic was… stuck in it sometimes; and it did not help that he had to work around it with wandless magic.

Had his magic changed not only in the amount of power, but in some other way, too? The way the magic worked with its surroundings seemed to be different, but Harry could not be sure, he had never before seen any magic and the level of power had dramatically increased. Maybe he just needed another wand? Harry snorted. He had so much work to do, so much things to look over. It would be a wonder if he got everything done as planned.

Again, he glanced over to his friend. Reaching for a pillow from his own bed, Harry took aim and threw it right across onto the flaming red mop of hair, but a low grunt was the only answer forthcoming.

"You've got to get up, Ron." Harry wanted to get this day done and away. He needed to start his research as soon as possible. Although, the answer he finally got was something unexpected.

"My stomach hurts." Came the first coherent muttering. It reassured Harry that Ron had not somehow been transfigured into something unable to do anything but grunt.

"And my head." The redhead mumbled weakly.

"New dawn, new hope, Ron." Harry smiled down at his dozing friend. "I'm sure the breakfast will make the hurt go away." Lazily, he closed all of the three buttons that were still present on his shirt.

Another grunt came out of the depth of pillows, before the whole mass of it was thrown away and Ron finally put his feet down, his eyes thick with sleep and swollen red.

"I shouldn't have drunken all those butterbeers." came the new insight in a harsh whisper.

"And I'd have to agree with you." Harry laughed. He laughed louder when Ron hid his head between his shoulders and threw the pillow back with a glare that rivaled Snape. It was good to know that some people had normal problems to carry around.

"Do you think Hermione will spell the headache away?" Ron sounded really pitiful and he looked it, too.

"I'm not sure. I think, if she helped you, she would see it as a lesson you wouldn't learn." Smiling, Harry pulled his shoes on and went on his way. "I'll soft her down for you. Maybe you're lucky and she'll take pity on you, but the groveling you'll have to do for yourself."

"Thanks, mate." Harry was certain that Ron attempted a smile of sort, but it came across like a grimace. Harry left, feeling really good to know that, even if only a few minutes longer, he was not the only one feeling down. Hermione never let a friend down in need, even if said friend had brought it upon himself.

It took half an hour for Ron to make an appearance in the common room. During that time Hermione tried to get Harry to give her another explanation than that he had shrunken his robes and enlarged them again when he had realized that he had shrunken them way too much. It had neither satisfied her curiosity nor her need to know everything in order to help him.

Now she had him engaged in small talk about all the new ways of potting and growing plants she had learnt from Neville, in which small talk meant that she spoke and forced Harry to listen. Whenever his thoughts began to wander a painful pinch would bring them back.

Harry was not certain if he had been much of assistance for Ron to get a cure for his party hangover. Harry was almost ready to go on to breakfast without his friends when fate became reasonable and sent his friend's sister down from the one side and Neville from the other.

With a small, uncertain smile Neville just sat next to Harry and listened attentively. Probably he had heard Hermione going on and on about plants from the dormitory and did not mind a bit more – it was his favorite subject in school, after all. However, Ginny flopped down next to Hermione with only a furtive glance in Harry's direction. Quite obviously, she was more occupied with her thoughts than with the people surrounding her. Hermione was the one to ask her the question everyone wanted to know the answer to.

"Your time together with Dean was really short." Hermione said straightforward without voicing her own opinion about the other girl's rapid change of partners. "Ron said you have a new boyfriend? How is he? Do you love him?"

Girls! Harry rolled his eyes and glanced at Neville when Ginny bend forward with a secretive smile on her face. One could do nothing but let them talk and hope it would be over, soon.

"Well, Dean is really nice and everything," shrugging, but smiling secretively, Ginny glanced over to where the boys' dormitories were, "but Tore is much more mature. I know he is a Muggle, but he is really kind and understanding. He has brown eyes and dark curls. I really like him." Ginny's eyes glimmered, but Harry found that she did not look very much in love, is seemed much more like a cause of infatuation. He shuddered to think himself on the repeating end of her feelings. It was really lucky that she had grown out of her blind obsession with Harry Potter, even if it had been funny in the beginning. Whatever it was with Ginny and boys, Harry nodded with understanding and kept his silence.

"Tore knows about magic." Ginny continued to explain. "He's really fascinated with our world. He's a bit sad though, that his sister is coming to Hogwarts and he won't ever be able to."

Harry's brow rose questioningly. "In which House did she get sorted, by the way?" He had forgotten the little girl an Ron's task to help her around.

"Sinje? She's in Hufflepuff. How do you know her?" Ginny scrutinized him carefully, as if jealous – of what Harry could not begin to fathom.

"We were just helping her to find her toy." Hermione answered before Harry could even open his mouth. What was it with girls these days?

"Her doll." Ginny smiled, a smug glint in her eyes. "I know. She carries it everywhere. It was a present from her aunt, I think." Her eyes narrowed barely visible.

"What is it?" Hermione caught on fast enough.

"Oh, it's about her aunt," Ginny shrugged, her expression compassionate. "She vanished. I don't know why or how and when. Tore didn't tell me and Sinje doesn't talk to anybody about it."

"Did they come here because of that?"

"Well, Tore said their father had gotten a new job, much better paid than before, but I don't know. It's a topic he doesn't like very much. I don't think his parents would like it much more if I asked them sensitive stuff about their past, so I left it." She shrugged uncomfortably. "I hope I get to know the whole story when I see him again."

"Hm." Hermione hummed thoughtfully. She seemed to feel with the family. Harry tried not to give away any of the things he felt.

He knew that it could not have been Voldemort when whatever had happened to the girl's aunt happened during this summer. It was another matter when it had happened before Harry's sightseeing tour at Voldemort's hideout. Perhaps some straying Death Eaters had made a little excursion out of their traditional hunting territory. Either way, Harry would get the little girl to talk to him, even if it was only to get her to open up. Talking about unsolved problems was said to give relief. Harry still had to try it sometime.

"Anyway," Harry's attention snapped back to Ginny. "Dad had a hard time with them. It was not easy to convince her parents to send her baby to Hogwarts. They all thought it to be much safer if she stayed with them … under one roof so to speak."

"What did –" Sudden noise from the boy's dormitory stairs made Hermione halt in mid sentence and she looked imploringly to see whoever made such a ruckus.

Dean was the first to stumble forward, laughing loudly before he noticed the silent group of students, watching them intently as if they were a foreign species of bugs.

"Still here everyone? Breakfast doesn't wait forever, you know?" Seamus piped in as he jumped down the last steps of the stairs, unaware or simply not willing to recognize the heavy mood in the common room. "Isn't anyone of you guys hungry?"

Clearing his throat, Neville got the attention at once. Harry had forgotten that the quiet boy had been right next to him, and he didn't seem to be the only one.

"I'm hungry." Neville said in a thin voice and glanced at Ginny apologetically, taking the chance to escape.

"Great to know there's still someone sane around, come on Neville." Seamus waved lively, already on the way to the portrait.

"Hey!" Harry stopped them on their way with his sudden shout, as he remembered something. "Is Ron up, finally?"

"Yeah," Seamus grinned gleefully. Being one to never get a hangover, Seamus could afford to gloat. "He's busy retching."

"That doesn't sound good." Hermione turned to Harry. "How much of those spiked butterbeers did he have?"

"How should I know?" Harry held up both hands in a defensive gesture. "As you should be aware, I went to bed early." Harry saw the wink Seamus gave him the moment the three boys left the common room. Certainly, Seamus had been the last one standing and able to get his friends to bed. His 'Irish blood' he would say. Harry sighed and turned back to a miffed looking girl.

"It was the welcoming party, Hermione. It was just once and it was his first time to get his hands on real alcohol. I'm certain Ron's cured from this experience." Harry suppressed a grin. "You can lecture him, though, if you like. I just don't want to have to deal with a hangover suffering, hot tempered redhead for the whole first day of classes, if you get the gist." He made puppy dog eyes until Hermione pulled a face.

"Maybe you are right." she frowned, a smile in her voice. "I'll give him the talk, though."

"Do that." Glad to have done the good deed for his friend, Harry got to his feet. "I'll go and get him away from the pot. You wait here, wand ready." Hermione nodded wordlessly, a book already open on her lap. Harry shook his head and sprinted upstairs. He still wanted to get some of his clothes back to – at least – their original state. For that though, Ron had to leave and take Hermione with him, lest she became curious and sent the redhead up to investigate.

"Ron?" Cautiously, Harry opened the door and looked around. It seemed as if his friend was really busy getting up what had gotten down only yesterday. Smiling, Harry made his way to the bath.

"Are you in there?" He stuck his head into the open door where the lavatory stalls were and Ron, its only occupant, hanging uncomfortably over a basin.

"Seamus indicated that you're having difficulties to get up from your knees." Harry said diplomatically, ignoring Ron's wince at his voice. He really hadn't spoken all that loud.

"If you can make it downstairs, Hermione is waiting." Harry rubbed calming circles on his friend's back. "She's ready to play nurse, though you'll have to listen to her take-responsibility-for-your-actions-talk, as I said you would." Harry shrugged unconcerned when he friend groaned miserably.

"Sorry, I couldn't convince her to leave it this time." Harry mentioned innocently. "But maybe if you'd actually heed her advice for once, she'd stop doing it."

"Yeah, as if." Ron ripped off a long sheet of toilet paper, rolled it carelessly and wished his mouth inside and out, before he heaved again.

"You really shouldn't drink so much spike, you know." Harry helped him up and didn't say anything else when Ron mumbled his obligatory "I'll never drink again."

"Can you get down the stairs on your own?"

"It'll do. I'm not an invalid, Harry."

"Sure not, you only act like one." Harry grinned behind his friend's back. "Go down already, okay? I have to search for some books I need. If I'm not down when Hermione's through with you, go on to breakfast, I'll catch up. All right?"

"'K." Ron never took his right hand away from the wall. Harry watched for a moment to make sure Ron was well on his way and not falling down the stairs like that unlucky first year, even if the stairs were not moving on its own, but in Ron's head.

Closing the door, Harry flexed his hand and gripped his wand with new awakened determination. He knew what had gone wrong yesterday. It was not enough to say the spell and to take care of the amount of magic he used. His magic was still powerful enough to leak not only through his wand but his body too – at any time. His magic had gone through a much heavier and more important change than Harry had previously given thought to.

Now, that was much more awake and he had his wits with him, it would not take all that long to accomplish the feat that had cost him many years of life only yesterday. The thought came to him right after standing up. Harry needed his wand working together with its surroundings, or better said, he needed his magic to do it. Harry didn't know how, but he knew he had done it before. Without thinking long, Harry opened his trunk and fished one of the shrunken shirts out of its depth.

It helped Harry to know that the magic was there, even if he could not see it anymore. Although, for now it was much easier to work properly with his magic if he closed eyes to get his concentration up to the level were he could actively work with his new magical abilities – some of them at least.

Harry could feel the magical energy. He saw it growing and wavering in front of his inner eye as he reached deep within himself. His body trembled when he felt out his own magic and found the intensely glowing point from were his magic flew steadily through his body, radiating heat and a sense of life. Harry followed its way through his arms, up to his hands and further still. With a soundless pop that rang through his whole being Harry felt the magic connecting with the stone that surrounded him, with everything that had to have even a tiny bit of magic in itself.

Slowly Harry opened his eyes to slits, directed his wand to the well worn doll's cloth and spoke the incantation clearly and with calm. His concentration never wavered. It took no effort to feel the magic withstanding his wish to take the prepared but too narrow way through his wand.

Harry did not know how he did it, but he … split the magic. The most part of it he sent through the air and stone itself, so the rest could flow through his wand unhindered. A small, satisfied smile struggled to break free of his calm mask of concentration when Harry felt the magic he had sent on its way through his wand reaching out to connect with its other half. He allowed his smile to blossom as he watched the shrunken shirt enlarging itself just the way it should, doing neither more nor less than he had intended.

There had not been anything to see. It did not look as if his wand and magic worked different than they had done before this summer, but then it would not, not when no one was able to see the magic itself. Harry thought about what he had done. With a little bit of practice, a little more concentration than he would have applied to so called "wand waving" last year, he knew that he could easily do it again.

It really did not take much to repair his clothes. When the next week started he would have no problems in class. Harry was well aware that he had worked out only a compromise, but it was one that worked. As long as he was careful in everything he did – and in front of whom – that was what counted. It was incredible how much a bit of concentration mattered when doing magic, but all too much could go wrong if his mind was wandering. However, it was a great feeling to be able to use his wand again, which ever way he did it.


	25. Chapter 24 : Having Breakfast

**Title:** Harry Potter and the Summer's Secret

_**Author:** Japhu _

_**Pairing:** HPSS_

_**Rating:** R_

_**Disclaimer:** I own nothing of Harry Potter and his world and don't make any money with it._

_**Summary: **For one week in summer Harry disappears without trace. When he comes back he claims to have no memory. But something happened and it changed him. It remains to be seen if for the better or the worse. (will be HPSS)_

_**Category:** action/adventure/angst_

_**Feedback:** always highly appreciated_

* * *

**Chapter 24 – Having Breakfast**

After a weighing look to the other shrunken things, Harry thought it prudent to get the practice he needed to work his wand right then, as long as he still had time and – more importantly – before the first day of classes started for real.

It was not long after that when Harry, with a satisfied grin on his face, could be seen to lazily stroll through the corridors into the direction of the great hall. His eyes were much more radiant and he was awake enough to keep them open long enough to be seen. His stride seemed much more confident and happy. It was the way everyone remembered the Gryffindor from last year, though, his loss of being-angry-at-everyone-attitude seemed to gain him an uncertain frown or two.

However, for those who thought Harry Potter a bit too cheerful in the dark times to come, they could relax marginally, because it was not long for his satisfaction of having accomplished a small feat on his way to the big one to diminish. Soon enough Harry was his ordinary non-cheerful self, walking briskly to catch up with his friends.

His thoughts were already occupied with the section of the library he would visit first. Foremost though, he needed to find a way to survive the postponed meeting with Dumbledore without giving too much away. Harry knew that giving nothing at all would not work – unless he wanted the headmaster to force some truth serum down his throat or to revive the tradition of chaining students to the wall (which Filch was so fond of).

Right before Harry stepped into the hall he took a deep breath, put a smile on his face and forcefully pushed the doors open without so much as looking at the other students strolling in and out. Most of them watched him carefully as if he would sprout horns and a hoof… or would beat them up as he did the poor painting just yesterday. Harry grimaced at the hidden and open glances he received and let himself sink down next to his friends with a curious look around.

"What is it with everyone?" he asked round eyed and pushed his glasses up his nose.

"Well, you see, there is this unbelievable stupid rumor, that you were seen beating up and threatening the Fat Lady." Dean stated matter of fact while a grinning Seamus nodded eagerly.

"Really?" Harry nodded thoughtfully and looked down to where the fifth years sat, their heads huddled together as if deep in conspiracy. It seemed Harry had remembered correctly. The third year – whatever his name – told younger Creevey, who in turn told older Creevey, and older Creevey took it upon himself to pin a headline onto the black board for everyone else to read.

"The rumors are already around?" Harry scratched the back of his head with a sheepish grin.

"'Course they are. This is Hogwarts after all, you know?"

"Thanks, Seamus. I surely would have forgotten." They grinned at each other in good humor. Harry thought that maybe the boy wanted to make up for last year's difficult start (not that Harry wanted to remind him when it was out of the way). It was good to have at least his dorm mates talking friendly for some time.

Looking around, Harry quickly decided to grab something to calm his stomach – after all he had not gotten much yesterday – and was about to bite into a juicy piece of bacon when he looked up and saw to his dismay a painfully colored head stuck curiously between Ron and Hermione, who had both shifted away to give or – if their expressions were any indication – more probably get some space upon this intrusion.

With a strained smile Harry put down his fork and nodded a polite greeting, even if all he got in return was an intent scrutiny from narrowed and somehow doubtful eyes.

"Did you really beat up the portrait?" The peacock's son sounded amused and there was an odd twinkle in his eyes. Harry thought, an ache in his facial muscles, that he did not like nosy people at all – not when they were friends or headmasters, and certainly least of all if he did not know afore mentioned people longer than a day.

"Actually, yes." Harry said with a proud, smiling face, ignoring the looks he got from his friends and concentrated on Mr. Nosy. "You want to know why?"

The other boy shrugged, his eyes narrowing further, but Harry waited patiently until the pink head bobbed up and down and the boy ground out a low "Why?".

"She was being nosy." Harry grinned and finally bit into his bacon, savoring the first taste of his breakfast and the hurt look he got from the grimacing, but luckily without further request retreating, fifth year until the snickers broke way from his friends and fellow Gryffindors who had been close enough to listen.

"I don't like it when people I don't even can properly speak the name of stick there noses into my business." Apologizing, Harry shrugged at Hermione's reproaching gaze. "He could get really hurt if he did something like that to someone more inclined to keep his own, you know? I was doing him a favor." Harry took another bite. "And he was definitely being too blunt."

Keeping Junas Bradarowicz in his line of view, Harry shook his head while packing his plate with more goods than he could possibly stomach. His life did sometimes remember him of those cartoons he had seen a few times flicker over the screen when Dudley had indulged in his much loved lifestyle of doing nothing useful except to live on a couch to stuff himself with sweets.

"Sometimes I feel like Jerry." Harry philosophized aloud with a thoughtful glance.

"Jerry?" Ron seemed to be more awake now. Certainly, Hermione had helped him to live past his hangover.

"Yep. Jerry the cartoon mouse." Harry nodded with a wistful smile and bit into a piece of toast.

"The what?"

"It's a Muggle thing, Ron." Hermione precociously informed him but kept her attention on Harry, her expression clearly asking him to elaborate.

"Yep." Harry grinned. "Poor Jerry is constantly hunted by a cat named Tom." Harry lay special emphasis on the name, "but he always manages to play a trick on him and escapes in the last possible moment." he shrugged, trying to explain. "My life is just so grotesque sometimes. It feels like something like that would happen in a cartoon rather than in real life."

"That Brado guy?" Dean inquired curiously.

"Him too, but I'm more thinking of the big bad one, not the little crazy…" Harry stole a glance to the fifth year "… pink headed one." He squinted and winced. "Or is that orange today?"

That made way for a round of wide eyed looks and let them drift into silence. They were well into eating when Harry saw his head of house striding over to them with thunder in her forceful steps and a look that spoke of danger for the one at the receiving end… most probably himself. The pieces of parchment in the professor's hands looked dangerously crumbled.

With a deep breath, Harry pushed his plate away. His stomach was settled either way, even if he would like to have some of those pancakes, but well. His professor did not seem to be in a good mood this morning. He better did not make her wait until he had finished.

"Mr. Potter!" McGonagall's lips pressed to a thin line and her eyes blazed hidden fire. She towered right next to him as if he was no more than a beetle she would likely crush in a moment. Yep, Harry was right. It was certainly not a good mood she spread. Her voice would make the stone crumble over their heads if she kept it up for much longer. She seemed ready to give him a piece of her mind for the stunt he had pulled the day before.

"Professor McGonagall?" Innocently blinking, Harry questioned the professor's angry entrance with a wide eyed gaze, as if he was uncertain whether she was justified to direct all her bad mood at him. "Did something happen? Is everything all right?" his Gryffindor heart wanted to know, ready to jump into action. "Is it Voldemort?" Harry ignored the gasps and noticed the only reaction his head of house showed was a slight twitch in her left eye. "Was there a Death Eater attack? Shall I help? Can I?"

"No, Mr. Potter." She stared searchingly at him for a long minute, then the air seemed to deflate off her and she only looked tired and worn out when she shook her head, clearly getting a grip on her emotions. It would not do to have a hall with hundreds of students – every single one watching them more or less attentively – getting into a panic. "Do refrain yourself, Mr. Potter. There was no attack."

"I don't understand, Professor McGonagall?" Harry frowned and gazed questioningly at his friends, for maybe one of them could solve the puzzle, before his attention turned back to his professor. "Not to be disrespectful, but the way you were coming over here I was certain something really awful did happen." Smiling bright and with obvious relief, Harry shook his head. "For a moment I was really worried, Professor." Now his head of house looked really troubled. Harry was relatively certain that she did not want to make her students unnecessarily terrified. She seemed pretty much chastised. Craning his neck, Harry looked up at her.

"Can I help you, Professor? I mean, you were coming down to talk to me?" he asked doubtfully and watched how his head of house pulled herself together, though now her mood was bearable for an early morning.

"Mr. Longbottom," she found her way again and gave the surprised boy right next to her the small stack of papers, "see to it, that your fellow Gryffindor students get these before they depart from the table."

"Er… yes… ma'am, Professor." The boy stuttered and gripped their future lesson plans tightly, aware of the looks he got from all around the table. Harry suppressed a grin. Everyone was desperate to know how fate had played the cards this year. To have hold of lesson plans was a dangerous thing just now.

Fortunately for Neville, Hermione reached over the table, smiling sweetly at her professor, her gaze slightly doubtful, because surely Professor McGonagall knew that Neville would be running away from the hall before he could hand out even one schedule to its rightful owner. The students would storm over to get their lesson plans in a matter of minutes.

"I will do it, Professor McGonagall." she said. Neville seemed much happier to be relieved of his sudden burden so soon after he had gotten it.

"Ms. Granger." The woman acknowledged with a curt nod and returned to Harry. "The headmaster is going to give you your lesson plan personally, Mr. Potter, right after breakfast." McGonagall did not seem too fond of him for the moment, as her narrowed eyes indicated; but still, there glimmered something like regret for only an instant.

"Yes, Professor." Harry blinked and watched Hermione handing out the lesson plans at their table, to avoid replying the cross look the professor send his way.

"He's awaiting you in his office, Mr. Potter." She looked stern, not ready to let him go just now. "Do you think you can find it today?"

"Of course, Professor." Harry smiled disarmingly at her doubtful and very much disapproving expression as if caught innocently. Thoughtfully, he glanced at his friends' time table. Somehow he doubted that his lack of an answer to his OWLs letter to choose his NEWTs courses was all about what the headmaster wanted to talk about.

"Are you certain that I should go right after breakfast, Professor? I don't want to be late or even miss my first class in a new year."

"You are excused for your morning lessons this day, Mr. Potter. You can get the assignments from one of your classmates afterwards."

Harry grinned charmingly. "That's what I thought, Professor. Thanks." Too cheerful for his professor's mood, Harry received a hard look that spoke of lots of detentions if he should miss the turn-off to the headmaster's office once again today, but nevertheless Harry had managed to take some of the wind out of her sail and changed a heavy storm into a mild breeze.

"I hope there is really everything all right." Harry said for his friends' benefit while he watched the professor's stiff departure and returned his attention to the table when she took her place at the head table. It was only Hermione from the other end of the Gryffindor table, where she was still handing out the last schedules, who gave him one of her scrutinizing gazes. All of his other friends where pretty much occupied, waiting for Hermione to get their time tables or studying and comparing their own schedules that were already handed out to them. Watching his friends following Hermione's every move, Harry was bored. Likely it was only the calm before he went to hell (better known as the headmaster's office), but nevertheless, if he had his own plan already, Harry would have something to do at last.

Harry had not really thought about his OWLs. Hell, he did not even know how much he had gotten! Propping up his elbow to support his head in his hand, Harry looked lazily around and turned the thought in his head. He did not much care for OWLs at this moment, he had not cared for the most part of his summer. It would be different if he would possibly get one or two OWLs for keeping a self appointed former lord in his head, otherwise Harry believed the less classes he took the better it would be for him and his soon-to-be-started-research to find a way to get rid of Voldemort.

Harry was pulled back from his thoughts when Seamus, who set right next to him, bent over the table and bumped into his side, relieving Harry from his comfortable position as he gazed interestedly down on Hermione's narrowly written schedule. Curiously, Harry followed his look and his brows rose questioningly.

"I don't see any free space in your schedule, Hermione. Were you not supposed to solely concentrate on your NEWTs?" Harry questioned as he glimpsed on the girl's parchment.

"You are required to take at least three NEWTs courses – though most students tend to take four in case one goes wrong, anyway – and of course History of Magic and DADA as required average courses if you're not taking one or both for NEWTs. Otherwise you are pretty much open, though more than six NEWTs level courses won't fit into your schedule, I've tried." Sorrowfully, she pulled a face.

"Yes, well… but I don't think I overdid it this time." She said with a thoughtful but satisfied glance down to the parchment she kept in a firm hold. "There is still enough space to concentrate on homework and extra credit subjects. I really did not want to drop some subjects totally, you know. Although, my parents forbid me to take on more than six courses altogether." Sadly, Hermione shook her head with a regretful look onto her tightly filled schedule and smiled.

"My parents did not want me to take average courses, but I convinced them to let me, because we were obligated to take Defense and History anyway and they shouldn't count them, because I didn't choose them." She smiled. Hermione, and everyone else who knew her learning habits, was well aware that she would have chosen DADA and History even if she had to teach it herself. After all, it was History of Magic even if Binns taught it; and in these times DADA was simply a necessity.

"I would have liked to take Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures in NEWTs level, but it just didn't fit in anymore, though, Professor McGonagall assured me that if I'm working well she would talk to Professor Sprout. So I still could get extra lessons on NEWTs level, despite being in an average course. Yes, well, and Care of Magical Creatures is not really important, but it's still interesting and it's with Hagrid." She shrugged and Harry hoped that Hermione would not forget everything else – mainly her extracurricular research – about the NEWTs.

After a moment to adjust Hermione's idea of attending classes, Ron groaned. Like everyone, he too had History on his schedule, though his plan had enough blanks to go playing with the squid or to run to London and back between classes. There was no lack of free space in Ron's schedule.

"I don't understand why they make us take History. It's boring." The redhead moaned.

Hermione straightened. "Maybe they don't want more ignorant wizards and witches running around and cry for extinction of Muggles." Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "Such things happened in Wizarding history more than once, Ron, even if it were mostly other species that got nearly ridden from the face of Earth. Take the Goblin Wars or the Battle of Rihidio, the Grovian Rebellion and the Klevian Death Marshes – even the War of the Ancient to an extent. History is full of things like that. Most of them could have been prevented if people would not always repeat the mistakes made by their ancestors." Hermione's eyes glazed over, her mind deeply emerged in some obscure book she had most probably memorized page by page. The girl did not even notice the looks the boys exchanged with each other. They had lost her train of thought right after "Goblin".

"Be that as it may," Ron shrugged her lecture to a halt. "We have lots more of homework and not much free time even without History." He scoffed. "I bet nobody took History of Magic voluntarily. Who in their right mind would take Binns for NEWTs anyway?"

"I would… did." Neville swallowed.

"I did, Ron." Hermione said affronted at the same time and looked surprised to Neville like everyone else in their little group.

"Huh?" Ron blinked stupidly. Hermione he could believe, after all she would just take everything on NEWTs level if they would only add a few more lessons – even if it was after curfew.

"Well." Neville looked uncomfortable and tried to shrug it away. "I don't have to use magic in History of Magic. It's mostly just reading books and learning. I actually know how to do that – and it's not that boring." He murmured in an afterthought.

"Yeah, well." Ron looked doubtful for a moment and scoffed. "It's still boring." Satisfied, Ron nodded when Neville shrugged without having to say something against this well proven statement. Only Hermione frowned unimpressed. It miffed her that not even her friends recognized that knowledge was power. They could learn so much more from books. It was a pity they did not even know – and never would – what they missed, especially in History of Magic.

Giving his own schedule a closer look, Ron frowned when he turned to Harry. "What do you think is the problem with your's, Harry?"

"Maybe they want me to take remedial potions like last year." Hermione and Ron knew what he was talking about. They both looked much more serious than a moment before.

"Maybe." Hermione mentioned carefully. "Those private coaching didn't work out so well, though. Are you sure that's it?"

"I don't know." Harry really hoped it was not. It was not likely so soon after he came back to school. "It's not as if I did something wrong this school year." Harry stated indifferently. He would get to know soon enough after all.

"Professor McGonagall was awfully… strict," Hermione continued drilling him for information as if that had been the opening point for her. Harry grinned.

"Maybe she had a bad dream or something. Or that stairway incident last evening was more serious than we thought." Harry shrugged. He truly did not know what had gone through the professor's head, though he could probably have made a good guess. Hermione watched him curiously but did not further this topic, well aware that they were not alone.

"It's too bad though, she couldn't even give you a hint to what your schedule would look like." Ron grumbled. He wanted to compare their time tables to know which courses they had together, as it seemed that most or even all classes were with members of all four houses mixed together, even so there seemed to be more than one class in some subjects as his DADA course had a small one written behind and his History course a small two – to make things even more complicated.

"I hope we don't have too much classes with Malfoy and the like." Ron groaned, giving a glare towards the Slytherin table.

"Ron!" Hermione shook her head. "It's time to get people to notice that Houses are a petty thing to judge a person by." She said earnestly and meant it. "After all, in two years time all of us will have to work together wherever we'll get a job."

"Yeah," Ron said with a meaningful glance to where Malfoy sat with his goons, "some more than others though, I'd reckon."

"Don't start on this now, Ron." Hermione frowned. "It's almost time to go to classes anyway. Just let it be." Clearly, slowly but steadily the majority of students was leaving the Hall.

"What do you guys have first?" Harry questioned to know what he might be missing. He blinked when he got five different answers. It really seemed as if all sixth year students were thrown together only to be pulled apart at random, though Neville seemed to have hit the jackpot, having two free periods until lunch and no homework to do for now. Having Potions, Hermione had drawn the bad end of the stick. The boys gave her a round of pity, which she did take with a relatively cold shoulder, after all she liked Potions and had chosen the NEWTs level voluntarily. Harry only hoped she would not be the only other student amidst a horde of Slytherins, as she most probably would not see any other Gryffindor during her time in that class.

"Anyway." Ron winked. "I like it when school starts with a weekend… or nearly. It's a nice short week, just right to get used to this stuff again." Ron grinned.

"And mine's even shorter than yours." Harry couldn't help but adding mischievously, twinkling towards Neville, who surely was at a loss as to what to do with his new won freedom until lunch.

The great hall was getting empty more rapidly than a few minutes before. Breakfast was finally over and Harry would need to search his way towards the headmaster's office. Inwardly, Harry became more nervous by the minute, doubting if he could pull it through as he wanted to. He did not have a plan laid out. Harry knew that plans tended to be blown up too easily. It would be better to improvise from the beginning than standing there without knowing what to do in the midst of their talk. He just needed to get certain points across without being obvious.

Getting up with his friends, Harry walked to the door with them. He grinned at them, said the obligatory good byes and watched Seamus and Dean heading off together before they parted – one on his way to the greenhouses, the other towards the DADA classroom. Harry would talk to Dean later to quiz him about the teacher. It would be interesting to see if Brado was really as stupid in everything as he made everyone believe.

"See you at lunch, Harry." Ron grunted. "You'll let us know what the headmaster did want to babble about, will you?"

"Yep, certainly." And with a look at Hermione he furthered: "You know I will. After all," Harry blinked, "I did tell you what I did yesterday, didn't I?" Alas, Hermione still did not believe him. Her only answer was a deep frown and Ron looked confused.

"What did you do?" the redhead asked and stopped on his way, wondering what he had missed.

"Shrinking my robes." Harry gave in frankly. "Nothing extraordinary, Ron, don't worry. I'd let you know beforehand."

"Oh. That's good then." Ron did not really seem to care. "See you." And he headed off towards Hagrid's hut. Three gone, two to go. Harry turned to Hermione. It was a rare occurrence that she was the last one to head off to classes.

"Good luck with Dumbledore, Harry. He probably wants to talk about your summer." Hermione whispered secretively, so that Neville would not hear clearly.

"You think so?" Harry managed to look dumbfounded.

"Yes." She nodded vehemently, certain of her conclusion. "It's most likely after all those rumors that went around, and after the report Professor Lupin and Moody seemed to have given him. Even if you think you were with the Dursleys at all times."

"I'll know it soon." Harry shrugged her worried gaze away and smiled reassuringly. "If I were you, I'd hurry or you'll be late for Potions." He grinned. After a hasty wink his friend run without further words. Smirking, Harry watched her running figure until she disappeared in the corridor that led to the dungeons. The first day of classes was not so bad for now. Thoughtfully Harry turned to Neville, the boy with too much free time, who would be harder to leave him on his own right now.


	26. Chapter 25 : Testing Waters

**Title:** Harry Potter and the Summer's Secret

_**Author:** Japhu _

_**Pairing:** HPSS_

_**Rating:** R_

_**Disclaimer:** I own nothing of Harry Potter and his world and don't make any money with it._

_**Summary: **For one week in summer Harry disappears without trace. When he comes back he claims to have no memory. But something happened and it changed him. It remains to be seen if for the better or the worse. (will be HPSS)_

_**Category:** action/adventure/angst_

_**Feedback:** always highly appreciated_

* * *

**Chapter 25 – Testing Waters**

Both Gryffindor boys stood thoughtfully next to each other, watching the rapidly emptying hall with lazy glances. One of them was very much occupied to find a way to possibly postpone the inevitable – namely the talk with the old man – even more; the other was just without something better to do than staying, hoping his friend would have an idea how to kill some time.

"So, Neville." Harry smiled easily. "What are you going to do with your unexpected free time?" Harry watched Neville from the corner of his eye. The boy clearly looked unsure of what to do with himself; nervously traipsing from one foot to the other, he seemed not inclined to leave him alone any time soon.

"Don't know." The boy mumbled and shrugged indifferently. "I haven't thought of anything."

"Huh." Harry himself had planned to go lazy for a bit. Dumbledore should not think he had him under his thumb. "You could go to the lake or into the library." Harry wanted to wait as long as possible before trudging up to the twinkling inquisition. He was certain that he was to be tortured with lemon drops when Dumbledore recognized that he would not be very much forthcoming with information.

"I could go with you." Neville said hopefully.

"What?" Harry blinked in surprise. "I don't think you're invited, Neville. Why don't you go to the lake? The weather's not that bad."

"I can do it afterwards." Neville explained softly. "It's a long time till lunch." Nervously, he still made no move to leave Harry alone.

"Oh, well. Alright, Nev." Sighing, Harry turned around. The hall was empty. Lessons had already begun. There was no one here but the two of them. "Alright, but no hurry." With some difficulty Harry reached around Neville's shoulders – the boy was only slightly smaller than Ron – and pulled the boy with him, opposite from where the headmaster's office was waiting for Harry.

"Where are we going?" Frowning, Neville looked around. He did not know precisely where the headmaster's office was, but it was certainly not outside.

Harry grinned impishly and led the boy towards the entrance hall. It would be good to catch a fresh breeze before he condemned himself to a whole morning in a dusty office. Harry did not look forward to be pumped for information by an old coot, all the while he would have the smell of lemon drops in his nose.

Harry let Neville go as soon as they reached the outside of the castle. Taking a deep breath, Harry reminded himself that tomorrow he would laugh about his anxiety. For the good or the bad, at this time tomorrow he would have dealt with Dumbledore. He shook his head and concentrated on his surroundings.

It looked as if rain would be falling soon; or rather a heavy storm seemed to be brewing. The towering clouds were nearly black and in the heavy gust of wind they changed forms continuously. The old trees of the Forbidden Forest shook with force, the leaves rustling heavily. It seemed as if they held on to the ground only by pure will when an even heavier squall caught them. Harry did not know it, but he smiled, watching as the end of the world seemed to announce itself.

They walked in silence, listening to the world; but it took not long until Neville stopped nervously. He was rather hesitant to move farther away from the castle's safety. Harry would not mind if lightning struck himself down. It would be the easy way out. Short and… enlightening. He chuckled with cheerful irony.

"So, Neville," Harry put his hands in his pockets and swayed on the tips of his toes, trying to hold out this way against the oncoming wall of wind. "What other classes did you choose for your NEWTs? History was certainly a revelation for us." Maybe Neville would finally go inside if the weather disturbed him too much.

"Er… I think…," Neville cautiously watched the ominous sky, "… you know… Herbology, History, DADA, and… uh… Divination."

"Divination?" Harry's brow rose in surprise, but he smiled at Neville's expression of insecurity.

"It's interesting. I mean… I'm not like Lavender or Parvati, but I like it." Neville did not sound so certain about that.

Harry thought it more likely that the explanation would be the same as the one for Neville choosing History. Anyone with a bit of imagination could get through this class – even without a wand. One did not necessarily need this 'inner eye' Trelawney was so fond of, either. Certainly, some things about Divination were interesting. If Harry imagined that the incompetent or Mars obsessed professors were not there; when he erased the crystal balls and the sticky air in dim lit rooms; when he forgot the death predictions and his visions of Voldemort and this stupid, probably all too true prophecy about him and that raving mad Dark Lord; Harry could probably be interested in Divination himself – but he doubted that it was going to be in this lifetime.

"Well, as long as you like it." Harry suppressed a grimace. "That's the main thing, isn't it? Don't let anybody talk you out of it."

Neville smiled with obvious relief. He had really thought that Harry would make fun of him. Harry shook his head. His friends – and Neville especially – should know better. When had he ever made fun of anyone? Of course there was Malfoy… and Snape… and Fudge… and Umbridge, and some other people – but that was not making fun; it was called retribution. Harry shivered when a cold gust hit him so hard that he had to step back to keep his balance. He loved the weather – it suited his mood perfectly – but he did not like being cold or being overthrown.

"Let's go inside, Neville. We can go to the kitchen, having a hot drink, and search for a quiet corner to lounge around."

"Oh, yes." Neville nodded fervently, cheeks and nose red, his eyes never leaving the line where sky and forest met. The trees seemed to be the last barrier before the storm came rushing down on them. "Inside!"

Harry grinned. What ever Neville did, he did it wholeheartedly. There was no cunning in Neville – and that was not an insult. It was astonishing that Neville could have stayed so trusting and – in lack for a better word – pure, even though he knew what people were capable to do. After all, he was repeatedly reminded of that whenever he visited his parents.

Harry wondered what would have happened when Neville had been the one marked. How would their lives have changed if Neville Longbottom had been known to be the Boy-Who-Lived? Harry sighed weakly. It was wishful thinking on his part. Neville was Neville, nothing else. Neville just was, and it made Harry able to relax around the boy. Now more than ever, because Neville wore his weakness – if it could be called weakness – open for all to see.

In Neville's world everything seemed to fit its supposed categories; life was easier that way. Despite everything what Neville had seen, there was no deception and not a chance of deceit. Everything was either one or the other; in that he was similar to Ron – only a lot more moderate, and Neville missed that hot temper and pigheadedness. Neville was not simple minded, far from it, after all he was a genius in Herbology; but Neville's world seemed simple in contrast to his own.

In his weaker moments Harry felt something that smelled suspiciously like envy, because for Harry the world was not meant to be simple any longer. Now he found it hard not to see the things between the one and the other. Only because certain people were believed to be good did not necessarily mean they were anything but. In Dumbledore he had a fitting example. Harry was relatively – not absolutely though, not anymore – sure that Dumbledore was in essence a good person; but he certainly was a bastard too, and Harry did not like that very much.

The old man thought he could get away with everything because of that stupid, knowing twinkle in his eyes. He was not omniscient. He could not be. No one was. With Dumbledore Harry just had to question what exactly – without doubt – the headmaster knew, and what that man read out of people's behavior when they stood opposite him, unable to keep their composure for whatever reason. It must have helped much to be a strong Legilimens; after all it made Dumbledore in other people's eyes all the more omniscient, never mind that he abused the trust the same people set in him when he invaded their minds without second thoughts.

Harry scoffed. He would not be one of those people any longer – he could not be and did not want to. He clenched his fists repeatedly. It did no good for him to fret. In a sense, Harry wanted to get the whole issue over with; but it was what always happened with simple plans, suddenly they did not seem enough to secure one's survival. The longer he waited the more Harry doubted that he would – and could – come out at the other side bearing not more but a scratch or two.

Blowing a strand of hair out of his face, Harry knew that he was dawdling. He just wanted the old twinkler to doubt – even if it was for only a moment – that Harry was showing up; maybe an hour to think things through, not to think about what could go wrong. To keep a Gryffindor façade in front of his classmates and friends was one thing, to hold onto it while Dumbledore was most probably rummaging through his head was another altogether. Harry hoped that it would not come to that. He was not certain that he could alleviate all of the headmasters 'concerns' when the nosy bastard started to use Legilimency; though, if he only took a look into Harry's mind it would go over well – most probably. There was just one thing that triggered Harry's doubts all the more. It was the tiny, little fact Harry would need to figure out only when he had already jumped into the proverbial hot, boiling cauldron.

Sadly, Harry could not leave Tom Riddle behind in the dormitory to wait for him until after his talk with Dumbledore. He shuddered to think what would happen when the headmaster, leader of the Order of the Phoenix and a figurehead for the fight against the Dark, found or felt the foreign presence in Harry Potter's mind – THE figurehead for the fight. Harry Potter, who was stupid enough to stay in the role that was forced upon him; a role, which in the very end would get him killed. Not thinking for a while, Harry followed Neville silently.

Being lost in thought once again, Harry did not really pay attention to Neville. Fruitlessly, the other boy tried to open him up to a friendly talk – a fact Harry did not even realize. Neville could have gone to hell and back again and Harry would have followed him without question so much was he caught up in his own world. Only when Neville stopped and pulled cautiously on his sleeve did Harry look up from the ground, raising a questioning eyebrow.

"I don't know where to go from here, Harry." Neville shrugged. "I've never been down there, though I heard some students talking about the kitchen being somewhere in this part of the castle." Harry blinked, grinning good naturedly and looked around. They really were not that far away from the kitchen. Just another bunch of steps and partway through the corridor on the left and they would be there.

"No problem, Neville." Harry looked at the boy. "But why didn't you ask someone to show you the way before?" Neville shrugged wordlessly and Harry frowned. Did he think nobody would have told him, because they thought he would be clumsy enough to pierce the peach instead of tickling it? Harry sighed. "Pay attention then. It's right down there now."

His head already occupied with other things, Harry made his way down the stairs. He wanted the old coot to wait just a little bit longer, only long enough to question if Harry was ever showing up; and Harry sure as hell was nervous. If he came all too trusting Dumbledore would not buy it, not after the temper tantrum he had thrown last year. Nevertheless, Harry could show him a new, improved Gryffindor, though he had to balance it evenly as to not make the man more suspicious of him. It would not be an advantage to have him on his tail from the beginning, at least, not more than he was already. It would be a bit like walking on a rope with tied eyes and high heels. Stupid, conniving codger.

A sudden tickle where he knew the mark to be made him stop abruptly just as they were entering the corridor where the kitchen was waiting with food and hot chocolate. Neville looked worried, but Harry was certain that his puzzlement did not show through the bright smile he wore. Whatever the mark send through the bond – or the bond through the mark – it got clearer with every passing moment, but more confusing all the same. Someone was approaching. Harry straightened when he realized that it could only be one person, who was allowed walking the corridors while bearing the Dark Mark. What had confused him for a moment was the lack of hate. That was the reason Harry had not recognized the pattern right away. Snape had not seen them yet as he was still on the stairs, but he would soon now. It were his emotions Harry received through the bond; though, the mark had never been as easy to read as it was now.

Obviously, it would not be as quiet a year as he had thought earlier; but what was to be would be. Yesterday, Harry had been too dead tired to care for anything, but now he was as ready as he could get; and it was just as well that Ron and Hermione were not with him. They could catch some breath and Harry could make use of the opportunity that presented itself. Why should he not start now? What spoke against starting with Snape? There was no time like the present to start a new game. Harry mentally prepared himself for the confrontation to come. Taking a deep breath and not a step further, Harry waited for Snape to step around the corner, still face to face with an even more anxious Neville. Harry smiled reassuringly.

"I think I'll show you the kitchen another time, Nev."

"Why?" and the boy's breath caught next to Harry as he was looking in the direction from where darkness was descending upon them. Neville paled dramatically and Harry felt a twinge of regret reverberating in his chest for not having forewarned his friend of who was coming down the stairs. His concentration firmly intact, Harry lazily turned around.

"Professor Snape!" He cried out in surprise as he was supposed to and realized at once that he would not be able to read the man thoroughly with help of his own magic; either he would loose track of their conversation, or of the barely visible aura of magic surrounding him. However, the hate was there now, Harry realized. A hot burning fire of loathing, all of it directed at Harry Potter.

The mark would be a great help in his dealings with Snape; but as it was doubtful that Dumbledore had been marked himself, it could do nothing for him there. Harry had counted that he would be able to read Dumbledore's aura during their oncoming conversation. He needed a way to know the old man's intentions and possible motives, a way to assess the danger going out from him. It was easy to play them out if he knew their emotions. Harry did not like how much he relied already on that ability; but neither did he like guessing. Hopefully, Hogwarts would soon finish whatever it was doing, so that Harry could get his magic back.

Harry shook his head. The castle and the mark's bond (and what it could possibly do) needed to be laid aside for another time. He had to decide how he wanted to handle the git in the future. Harry thought quickly. He could not let him run loose, sniffing out everything at random. It was better to let him figure out something that Harry had prepared for him, lest he stumbled upon important matters where his interference could well mean the end of everything. However, it would not hurt to test if what Harry wanted to do when necessary was even possible, or if he had to think of something else to be ready when he needed to. For a first though, Harry needed to give to get something back. He just needed a reaction with which he could work. It was worth a try.

Neville gave a frightened squeak and bit his lips when Snape rounded on him. His eyes were wide and cautious in presence of his greatest fear, though he held himself well. Harry could not say that he would hold out that way when faced with his own greatest fear; although, Harry was not too certain what that would be now. His greatest fear could not be Voldemort, and he doubted that the Dementors were still on top of the list. Maybe it was Azkaban or even Dumbledore – or the future he was steering towards. It would be interesting to know what a Boggart would look like if that was the case.

Harry cleared his throat so that the other boy could marginally relax when Snape's attention returned to him.

"Neville and I where just talking about Herbology, Professor." Harry said innocently right when Neville squeaked again. This time there was surprise obvious in Neville's wordless comment. Harry heard it and Snape certainly did, but lastly it did not matter if Snape bought the little story or not. It was only for Neville he made it up at all. Neither was Harry interested in it, nor would Snape be when Harry had said his part. He just had to talk fast, lest the professor interrupted him and made his story useless with some petty insult. After all, he needed to get his point across.

"Yes." Harry nodded fervently and left no break for the man to cut in. "We talked about animals. There are some, who can hurt special plants really bad. I thought it would be good to cut those things to pieces," Harry shrugged as if apologizing for not knowing better and looked his Potions Master in the eye, "but did you know that a worm's tail can move on its own even when the body's cut off?" He held the black, hardened gaze only an instant longer and directed a twinkling eye to Neville. The bond seemed to vanish for a moment before it returned with vengeance, every emotion tenfold.

"It was really fun talking with you, Neville." Harry smiled hard pressed, knowing their talk was over for now.

"Yes!" the frightened boy all but managed to breath out, trying to stay calm. He took a quick step back, nevertheless, because he was the one who received the forbidden stare above Harry's head.

"Longbottom!" Snape bit out sarcastically and sneered when the boy flinched. "Don't you have to watch a plant growing?" Neville swallowed nervously. Whatever he said in answer to that question would obviously be the wrong one. "Go and pot one as that appears to be the limit of your abilities." The sneer widened when Neville stood like rooted to the ground. "Do it somewhere else, Longbottom! I don't want to have to bear your stupidity between classes when I've just gotten you out of Potions." A contemptuous snarl followed and Neville, with an apologetic glance toward Harry, made his way to safety as fast as he possibly could. Harry stayed silent, but his fists clenched without his own accord. He wanted Neville to leave him alone, but he did not want the boy unnecessarily frightened.

Both remaining wizards followed the fleeing Gryffindor boy with determined gazes. Only when Neville rounded a corner and his feet could be heard rushing up the stairways in a frenzy they jerked their eyes around, assessing each other silently. With Neville gone, it was Harry now, who took the step back.

"We really did talk about Herbology, Professor." They had done that. Harry did not lie. Neville had told him after all that he would take Herbology for NEWTs level class, so to some point it had been a talk about Herbology, even if they had not mentioned certain worms and their tails.

"Did you now, Potter?" Snape's eyes were icy cold, mere slits burning with hate; the proverbial pits of doom. The hate that was continuously reaching Harry through that crazy bond they had made him nearly want to vomit, the sheer emotion almost bending his knees.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for lying to a Professor; another ten for involving another student in your own foolishness; and twenty points off for not realizing when you have been caught, Potter!"

An amused smile wanted to play around Harry's lips. Gryffindor had to be short of a hundred points in the negative by now – he tried to keep count – all due to Harry. Suppressing his facial expressions fast, before Snape could realize that House points did not really bother him anymore, he swallowed any uncalled comments and decided instead for feeling unjustly punished. However, it would be interesting how that negative top rank would make his friends react toward him. Maybe it would not be so cosy in the common room, after all.

Abruptly, the Potions Masters black pearled, narrowed eyes pierced the wide open, angry ones of the boy with disturbing fierceness. Without another word the man pulled the barely protesting boy from the well overseen part of the corridor down into another dark corner, one he very likely had often used to lurk around, hunting for students out after curfew.

"Now talk!" The man did not let go of the boy, barely refraining from shaking him until his neck broke; and that was the reaction Harry had been waiting for. It was good that the git remembered what Voldemort had said to him so many years ago – right before he swore him to secrecy. It left hope that Snape remembered all those other times when he had kept secrets, too. Hopefully, it would make dealing with the git a bit easier for Harry – or at least less like handling a raging Hippogriff.

"What about?" Confused, but even more angry at being manhandled, the Gryffindor stood straight while trying to free himself from that claw like grip (which kept him balancing on his toes) without actually having to touch the man.

The Potions Master should take some time to think about possibilities. He could not be certain that Harry had not talked about real worms. Before Harry made his next move the man needed to cool down; though, it would be one way to get back at Snape, riling him up until the bastard eventually lost that control he seemed to treasure. Perhaps Harry would do that later when his conversation with the headmaster was done; and only when other students – favourably from all houses – were watching. It was time for a different topic now, though.

"Do you mean the red robed wizards?" Harry shook his head and again spoke before Snape could get a word in otherwise. "I don't know much about them, sir. You were there, too." Harry tilted his head, thinking. "I mean, my vision gave not that much away." Harry blinked innocently, apparently completely unaware what he had given away. Snape did not look surprised, but he did let go of Harry's robes and the hate that rolled through the bond changed to puzzlement before it quickly became suspicion. Such a small word and so much consequences. Harry sighed.

"Professor?" He asked cautiously, aware that the man could explode any moment – it would not be often that the bastard found himself prevented from insulting the one he talked to.

"You have seen them before?" Snape's voice sounded barely restrained, the point of his knife scratching Harry's throat already. Harry marvelled in how the bastard managed to appear relatively bored of this conversation, all the while looking as if he had swallowed something vile.

"Huh?" Harry looked very much confused. "Oh! The vision? Yes, sir." He said eagerly with displayed pride, but not too much – Snape would not think him stupid but brain dead if Harry overdid it. The boy shrugged indifferently. "It was an old one, Professor." his face displayed just so what the Potions Master expected to see. Martyrism at its finest.

The man's large nose wrinkled in disgust when the idiot boy looked as if he was expecting to be praised for his suffering. That brat was not sixteen but six, even if he seemed to have grown out of these sickly sweet child's features.

"Why didn't you say so before, you insolent wretch?" Snape rounded up on him again, boredom suddenly gone when Harry just blinked at him stupidly. "You impossible, ungrateful child! Don't you realize that we're at war? Are you having a brick wall for a head?" The man fired down one question after the other, somehow managing to grow in height even more. How did he do that? Harry shrank back to the wall before remembering to be a Gryffindor and doing the same, oozing righteousness (or in Snape's eyes the typical stupidity Gryffindor's often displayed).

"You didn't ask, sir." Harry stated indifferently in midst that very uninformative rant and pulled a face. "It's not my fault that no one thought of it; and I didn't know that it was important."

"Another poor excuse for not being overly bright, isn't it, Potter? That will be another ten points." Harry glared vigorously and bit his lips. Snape must be having a bad day. His insults lacked the usual color, and his reasons for taking points had been much better in the past.

"It doesn't matter, sir. I had that vision right after coming back to the Dursleys – if it was a vision."

With an abrupt shove Severus Snape pushed the boy a good deal away from him, for he hardly could restrain himself from throttling that child for real now. With a hateful gaze he changed his mind, taking the boy hard by the collar and striding forward, dragging the ingrate boy to where he should be since breakfast.

"Hey!" Harry tried to wriggle out of the grip. "Let go off me!" Snape did not even graze him with a look, he only pulled the boy with him a bit faster than before.

"The wizards were only standing around doing nothing, anyway." he defended himself indignantly as he felt himself being hauled off towards the stairs. Grudgingly, the boy crossed his arms.

"Are you making fun of me, Potter?" Snape asked in a dangerously low voice, while bending down to him. A hint of disbelieve showed through the bond. Snape would not know a lot of people, who were foolish enough to openly disagree with him, worse – playing him on. Harry realized that he was just a tiny little bit more than a head shorter than that spiteful man; not as before when he hardly could reach the git's waist without getting stiff in his neck.

"No, sir." Harry furiously muttered and took a step back. He could not move much more on his own, for the Potions Master's fist held him resolutely. "Why would I, sir." An offended look on his face, Harry smiled secretly. For now, everything went according to his plan.

"I don't take it well, being lied to, Potter!" The man spat out, holding in his yearning for knocking the boy's head against the nearest wall. He had to swallow when he imagined the look on Potter's face should he do just that. However, the boy looked honestly surprised.

"Really." Harry thought out aloud, while scratching his chin thoughtfully, unaware of the violent pictures ghosting through his professor's mind. "Who would have thought that we finally find something we do have in common – after five years – and something as fundamental as that, too. Astonishing." Disbelieving, Harry shook his head sarcastically, and even though his voice seemed playful, his eyes betrayed his solemnity.

Snarling, Snape's eyes flashed with a dangerous glint as he watched the boy. Not finding what he sought, Snape growled something incoherent and whirled around. He refused to think about that idiot Potter. Forcefully, his robes billowing, Snape rushed off, to Harry's envy completely soundless. He never let go of Harry, leaving the boy to stumble behind with a lot less grace.

"Let's see what the headmaster is saying to that stunt, Potter." Harry sighed and took a deep breath. He had to act really well to keep Dumbledore out of his business. Hopefully, Tom kept quiet during the talk, though Harry did not think that the former lord would like very much whatever Dumbledore would concoct out of an information like that – or even without. Harry kept quiet during their uncomfortable walk up to the old man's office, trying to think of everything, keeping in mind what was about to happen.

Right before Harry felt himself being roughly shoved into the headmaster's office, he had one fatalistically, last thought. He hoped with all his might, that Tom had some sense of self preservation. Harry would have advised him to be – and stay – quiet for once. If Tom could make himself invisible, now was the moment for doing it. Harry did not want the headmaster to know where Voldemort was hiding. Did Tom?


	27. Chapter 26 : Almighty Headmasters

**Title:** Harry Potter and the Summer's Secret

_**Author:** Japhu _

_**Pairing:** HPSS_

_**Rating:** R_

_**Disclaimer:** I own nothing of Harry Potter and his world and don't make any money with it._

_**Summary: **For one week in summer Harry disappears without trace. When he comes back he claims to have no memory. But something happened and it changed him. It remains to be seen if for the better or the worse. (will be HPSS)_

_**Category:** action/adventure/angst_

_**Feedback:** highly appreciated_

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**Chapter 26 – Almighty Headmasters**

Playing idly with a lemon drop, twirling it around his gnarled fingers like a coin, Albus Dumbledore did not look like a loving grandfather, his face a blank mask of concentration. For once in his life there was no twinkle in his eyes and his mind was doing overwork. Perhaps it was because there was no one there to watch him; it was equally possible that it was because Harry Potter had finally grown out of his dependency for guidance by his elders, namely himself. Finally, the boy seemed not to take anyone's opinion but his own to mind when it concerned matters of his life. Admittedly, a bad time to rely on no one, as it seemed as if things were finally put into motion, although differently than the headmaster had anticipated and planned for.

Thoughtfully, Albus Dumbledore took another lemon drop to the one he was occupied with, twirling both of them faster than before. It kept his hands flexible for his wand. Certainly, he would need this ability sometime soon if things progressed further in that disturbing velocity.

Albus had been warned that things were about to happen, that something would change dramatically. He had not believed it would bring whole new groups of wizards to reveal themselves, every single one of them wielding powers that possibly matched his own – more so when those reports could be taken for granted.

Albus suspected he knew who those new players could possibly be; but he still lacked the confirmation, and without that he could do nothing. Even if his informant had confirmed what Albus thought very much probable, he could do nothing more than limiting the damage and trying to prevent further incidents as he himself had no access to those wizards' … resources. It would just be a relief to know one way or another. Sadly though, his only informant, who could possibly have known what was going on, had vanished at the same time when the incredible outburst of magic rolled over the world and shook every magical being to its cores. It had shaken up Albus Dumbledore too.

Acknowledging that explosion of power right together with Harry Potter's disappearance brought together one thing too much happening at once; and Albus Dumbledore did not believe in coincidents. It was lack of foresight that Albus had not thought to ask his informant if he knew something about the happenings on Privet Drive when he was still within his reach. Now it was too late.

It made his heart beat faster, the self appointed burden on his shoulders a bit heavier, because when he was right the Wizarding world had to play in a new league, and it was not the other team that would be the weaker one in their oncoming encounter. There was not much the Wizarding world could throw in the battle field against those wizards. Albus himself would be hard pressed to do more than help were it was most needed, not much help at all. If Voldemort had those secretive wizards – Red Robes his spy and Potions Master had entitled them in lack of a real name – on his side, it might well be that the Wizarding world had lost the war already.

He really hoped that the young boy could bring some light into the happenings. Albus needed to know what was going on. He had to adapt his plans, and he needed to prepare the Wizarding world – an impact it would be, for some more than for others, certainly – but at first he needed to solve the more urgent matters, even if those were not necessarily more important for the world's fate.

Harry Potter's OWL results lay in front of him. The boy had done all right for the most part, though nothing special. His grades were by no means above average, but not under it either – for the most part. What had surprised Albus was the abysmal grade the boy had gotten in Potions. Albus had thought Harry would do better after all that talk about becoming an Auror after school. The headmaster sighed. There was nothing to do but to wait for Harry to explain himself, if the boy was willing to talk to him.

Sometimes, lately more often than not, Albus Dumbledore felt his age catching up with him. Not taking into account that the summer had kept the boy occupied in a way no one could have foreseen, Albus had hoped that Harry would have found the time to think about certain things during his weeks away from Hogwarts and to considerably cool down his temper. That the boy downright ignored his headmaster indicated something else, though. In good conscience, Albus could not say that he would not have done the same had he been in Harry's position. If he had thought someone kept something as important as the prophecy from him, Albus would make them weep until they swore never to do anything remotely similar again. Certainly, the prophecy changed more than one life.

Since last year Albus had been asked for the prophecy more than once, but he had been strict. Not anyone but Harry knew the full content, except himself. The few Order members that needed to be told were sworn to secrecy and would never be able to give even hints. He hoped the boy had enough sense in his head to keep it to people that held his absolute trust. Albus would have preferred if he could have kept the knowledge from the boy as well.

Tiredly, the man turned around and looked through the high arched windows. He was certain that without magic the panes would have shattered some time ago. A wall of darkness pressed against the ancient castle and he could hear the storm howling threateningly around the towers. It seemed as if the night had fallen a few hours early, not a good omen if one believed in those.

The headmaster turned his attention away from the raging storm when out of the corner of his eye he saw Fawkes straightening on his perch, preening his feathers more intently, as if trying to look busy for the coming visitor. A heart beat later the castle let him know that someone passed the guardian gargoyle.

It was only a slight tingle of magic that ran through his body, not much for a warning, but Hogwarts _was _a building (filled with magic, certainly, but built of human hands, nevertheless). Albus experienced this tingle of magic always when someone was on his way up the stairway to his office. Whatever magic the castle held, it was enough to make the current headmaster find the fastest way to a certain point; it led him down the shortest route to wherever he had to be; and most of the countless portraits were agreeable to help when they could.

Albus took a deep breath. It was time to be the headmaster again; time to see if his way still worked with Harry Potter or if he had to think of something else to keep him from going overboard.

The mistakes he had done with the boy could not be made undone as much as he wished to be able to change some things – though, not what everyone thought he would change. Whatever Harry or anyone else believed, he loved the boy as if he was family. Although, his feelings did not change the boy's role in this war, it did not make his fate any different and as much as it hurt him, Albus would see to it that Harry did not run away from his future. The world's need was much greater than Albus Dumbledore's need – or his right – to keep the boy away and safe from everything.

With more self-confidence and less doubt of his own decisions the boy would grow into an exceptional young man, who would, with experience, surpass everyone on his way to greatness. Whatever his grades, Harry was not to be one among thousands. His grades were the only thing average about the boy and that fact left Albus puzzled every year anew, because he knew Harry could do much better, though the boy had never been one to like studying above living.

Only a few wizards and witches were powerful enough to see the resources of magic and mind others could grab on to if they set their whole being on to something. It had to be harder for Harry to recognize the path his future could take him to. It was always harder to look into the mirror and to admit what was there. It was sad that not more people recognized Harry's destiny – not even Harry himself (or he just did not want to). The boy had an affinity to forget things he did not want to remember; on the other hand he tended to remind himself of things that better were forgotten. It was not necessarily a good way to deal with life. Albus hoped – for Harry – that the boy would learn with time, and that he had left enough of time to learn.

Albus had kept an eye on the boy during the welcoming feast. From the distance he had not been able to see much other than that Harry looked well fed and overall in much better shape than he had been in the years before.

However, when the boy stepped into his office Albus recognized at once that Harry had undergone a dramatical change, not so much in appearance but in demeanor. His way to carry himself, how he looked about the room (sure and confident as he was always supposed to be) – Harry somehow managed to look more and less Gryffindor than before, all at once. To take up Severus' habit of pining supposed House qualities upon his students, Albus had always thought that Harry had quite a bit of a Slytherin in him, not that he had told him or planned to tell. Some things were good to know, but better kept quiet. It was enough to know that Harry could do differently than rushing head first into danger when he needed to. Albus was not one to complain, after all he himself could carry out his Slytherin side quite well when nature called for it.

The boy seemed still curious, although more reserved about it. He knew now that the answer to some questions could be anything but what one was able to imagine. Quite obviously, Harry was still angry with him, and although Albus had taken it for a certainty by now – it hurt no less; but left no question in him that the old way would not work anymore.

It puzzled him that Harry had shown up at all, though that puzzle solved itself when Severus – a peculiar expression of absolute distaste and… doubt on his face – slipped soundlessly in behind the boy. It explained thoroughly why Albus would not have to wait until dinner for Harry to come up to his office or to send the boy's head of house to him again, which would have gained Harry a detention. Minerva did not take lightly to lack of respect towards Albus Dumbledore.

"Thank you, Severus." Albus acknowledged. Perhaps it would be good to have his Potions Master with him for at least a part of the conversation. His presence certainly got Harry to be hard pressed to keep his thoughts on track and maybe it opened his mouth much more freely. With a barely visible nod he indicated for the man to stay and ignored the grimace on Harry's face, his twinkle firmly in place when he turned to the boy.

For a first, he had Harry wait through his scrutiny he bestowed upon everyone of importance; obvious and with apparently no cunning whatsoever it made most people even more uneasy, thinking of things they could have done wrong, thinking that he would call them on their mistakes any minute now. It often drew sighs of relief when he did not do as they thought, but it made people more approachable for the following conversation, and it had loosened tongues more than once – though never the one of his Potions Master.

Intrigued the younger man watched the proceedings from a corner. He certainly must ask himself why Albus suddenly changed the way he dealt with the boy, and certainly Severus knew what it meant, some of it at the very least, as he seemed trying to hide his surprise behind a mask of badly endured boredom. Of course, the Potions Master was new to the thought to think of Harry Potter as anything else but a nuisance, an obstacle in his way to wherever he thought to go.

The boy did not know that Albus greeted only his equals – or betters – In that way, friends and enemies alike. Certainly, nobody who knew would tell Harry, who was gaining that status rapidly – if he did not have it already – what it entailed. Of course, he had not watched Harry less during the past years, he just had tried to make the boy – and children in general – feel comfortable while doing so unnoticed.

It pleased Albus tremendously that he finally had been successful to open Severus to a new way of thinking, even if it would probably take years to take roots. He respected the younger man very much, but the blindness when it came to anything related to Potter – let it be James or Harry or a Muggle unlucky enough to be caught bearing that name – all sense the man normally possessed flew straight out of the window.

Albus thought that it must be very tiring to keep any feelings as heated as that alive over a long time. It was no wonder Severus always wore an unhealthy expression. It must take all of his energy to keep the hate strong enough to go on and on about it at every opportunity. Naturally, Albus liked his life enough to keep quiet about it. More than once he had thought that Severus had lived long enough in his misery and self pity, though if it helped him to keep up his remarkable spying abilities, Albus was not one to say differently – not as long as the world's fate was out of balance.

Harry meanwhile did not take as well to being openly watched as Severus did, but then, the boy did not have long years of practice at his back. He was in no way used to the way Albus treated his equals – or dangerous fools who thought themselves to be his equal. The boys eyes grew darker as he shifted uncomfortably from one foot to another, though he stopped when he recognized what he was doing. Albus smiled cheerfully as if unaware of the undercurrent apparent in the increasing tension in the room. It was noticeable to anyone halfway adapt in the dealings of interhuman relations. Smiling overly bright, Albus Dumbledore pulled a pouch with lemon drops out of nothing, deciding for himself to let his Potions Master be and observe for now, and to give the boy his full concentration.

"Would you like a lemon drop, Harry?" the headmaster asked amiably. Shaking his head disappointedly, he put one of them into his own mouth when the boy grunted out something between his clenched jaw that he took for the 'No!' it was certainly supposed to be. So much anger in one boy and nothing he could do.

"Sir?" Harry did not like the way the headmaster stared him up and down, although it seemed to amuse Snape quite a bit, if anything could amuse that cold hearted bastard.

"Ah, yes." The old man pointed to a chair. "Take a seat, Harry. Make yourself comfortable."

Harry threw a glance to where the Potions Master stood watching him. When he met the dark, assessing eyes the formerly expressionless mask distorted into a face that would make Voldemort proud. Harry blinked and quickly looked away. He did not want to follow to where that thought led; but he did sit down eventually.

"I assume you were a bit occupied with settling in yesterday, Harry?" the headmaster gave him an excuse.

"Er… yes, sir. I suppose I was." The Gryffindor took a harder grip on the armrest, his eyes shifting from one end of the room to the other, but meeting neither the questioning glances of his headmaster, nor the enquiring ones of his hated Potions Master.

"I was waiting for you quite a while, Harry." The boy cringed at the open disappointment in the old man's voice.

"I'm sorry, sir." Harry said quietly, before he rushed on more lively. "I was really tired. I didn't think you'd appreciate me sleeping in your office, sir." Although it would have made an interrogation with Legilimency a lot easier for the old coot; and less likely for Harry to notice what was happening – not so now; but of course the crazy codger did not know Harry's abilities in Occlumency. Harry would not want to miss his face when the moment of recognition hit him. Naturally, Harry would have to make sure that this fine moment did not happen and pass all too soon, and only when Harry wanted his skills be known. It would certainly be a surprise when the headmaster found out – hopefully though, not today.

Disturbingly aware of Dumbledore's never wavering gaze and the burning, coal black eyes in his back, Harry was quick to force himself back into what he thought were Gryffindor pattern. It was not easy to keep his own between those two, but he would fall dead to their feet before he let them do with him as they liked. This year it would have to be Dumbledore playing his game, not the other way around. They would see soon enough how he liked it to be face down on the table for the whole time of their game – figuratively spoken.

Harry knew that he was at a considerable disadvantage between them, and from the moment he had been shoved into the office he felt that something was off, a somehow important matter, something significant. The reason for that itchy feeling between his shoulder blades hit him only now when his mind wandered off into a direction he did not want it to take. At first he had thought that it must be the Potions Master staring holes into his back – or him trying to legilimize him – that took him off, but it was something else altogether, which made the git's stare nothing more than a secondary matter.

Although the castle had somehow taken Harry's ability to see magic, the diffuse shadow of a wizard's aura was still somewhat recognizable for him when he put enough concentration in his mind. It was not to be so now. Either the castle messed around with his mind – again, or Dumbledore did not have an aura – though he had to! Even Voldemort did have an aura – at least when that bastard still had his body around the dark pit that was his soul.

Swallowing, Harry tried to look sulking, his mind remembering those Thestrals. The mysterious animals did not have an aura, and that was alright – they were animals, special animals, but still. With them it had been a surprise, but it had felt natural, nevertheless. This here though… Harry tried to look without looking. Could Dumbledore influence his aura? Was something like that even possible? Harry had thought to hide his aura before when those red robed wizards had nearly caught him in their web. It really seemed possible now. Voldemort had not been able to change his own aura – at least Harry did not know… and Tom?

Harry listened. Either Tom did not know, or he did not want to answer; the latter was more likely, though Tom seemed rather impressed and disturbed by Dumbledore's display of… whatever. It would be nice to know what it was that had Tom so impressed. Harry was certain, what he did not know of Tom was much more than what he knew; and what he did not know was probably – even with Harry's luck – much more important than everything else. The feeling of Tom's presence was only a faint tingle in the back of his head, but it sent goose bumps down his spine and made Harry remind himself where he was, and with whom.

Harry tried to listen to Dumbledore. He was sure the old man had something to say – his lips were moving, but lastly he only took the piece of parchment the headmaster thrust into his direction and took the opportunity to look down into his lap. Was that the reason Dumbledore had kept staring at him in that disturbing manner – as if he was truly mad? The lines on the parchment in his fingers blurred together. Harry was just relieved that his hands did not shake like his world of plans and wishes. What did he do when Dumbledore could see auras? What was left to do if he could see more than that? Not that Harry could change anything, but he was truly flabbergasted. The old twinkler was like the Thestrals in his aura… but not. It did not feel natural at all.

He looked up to become aware of the headmaster's expectant gaze and looked down at once. Whatever the man was able or unable to do, it was a matter that was better kept for a later time. For now, Harry had to deal with Dumbledore and that stupid parchment. Finally, focusing his gaze onto the role of paper, Harry read, trying to think of the reaction he was supposed to show. Although the apparent bafflement he had shown until now seemed to have been a good start. Harry's eyes grew wide momentarily, and he read the parchment again.


	28. Chapter 27 : Gambit's Opening

**Title:** Harry Potter and the Summer's Secret

_**Author:** Japhu_

_**Pairing:** HPSS_

_**Rating:** R_

_**Disclaimer:** I own nothing of Harry Potter and his world and don't make any money with it._

_**Summary: **For one week in summer Harry disappears without trace. When he comes back he claims to have no memory. But something happened and it changed him. It remains to be seen if for the better or the worse. (will be HPSS)_

_**Category:** action/adventure/angst_

_**Feedback:** highly appreciated_

* * *

**Chapter 27 – Gambit's Opening**

It was the first good look Harry got at his OWL results. All in all they were not that bad, despite sleeping and whatever else had been going on at that time. What dropped into his line of view, though, was his really low Potions grade; and the first thought that popped into his head was that he would not need to memorize that five pages full of stupid potions, after all. However, Harry had thought he would have made it at least a bit better. Furrowing his brow, Harry tried to remember if he had been disturbed during that exam, too. So much had happened since then, Harry could not even remember if he had truly tried to get the required grade or not. Lastly though, it did not matter. He doubted that anyone would get him into Snape's NEWTs class with that ugly 'P' on his record. That explained probably why McGonagall had wanted to talk to him. She must really feel guilty to have let him down after she all but promised to get him into that class.

It seemed that he would not attend Potions after all. Lucky him. It solved two problems at the same time (one which he had not known he had until that stone box interfered). Firstly, Harry would not need to bear Snape baiting him overly much; secondly, Harry could stay away from Snape until he had that bond under control and could stop these infuriating emotions he got continuously shoved into his head.

This damned bond between them was not comfortable at all, now that he almost always got something through it. It was downright irritating when he was near that man, and in class he would certainly have to stay in hearing range. Although, Harry could not say for certain that it was always Snape who send that emotional baggage. He nearly found the uncontrollable magic the castle had taken away from him the better end of the bargain. To imagine that he got emotions from all the Death Eaters who crawled on this Earth was… not a nice thought. However, for once he was really grateful that his luck worked in his favor. To know that the bond was one sided helped immensely to keep his equilibrium. Of course, there had been that little incident with Tom in Diagon Alley – which Snape had witnessed; and the time when Hogwarts meddled with his magic and made Tom panic – which Snape had witnessed, too. Stupid nosy bastard. Stupid castle. Stupid him for always getting into those situations.

Still being the angry Gryffindor, Harry shrugged insolently when the old man questioned him on his Potions grade. "I had another bad day, sir." He bit out, clearly remembering when he had last been in this office. "I had a lot of those last year." When Dumbledore's face darkened and his twinkle dimmed Harry sighed and looked guiltily up to his headmaster.

"I guess I was just too nervous to think straight during the exam." Harry muttered apologetically. "So much depended on it." Dejectedly, his shoulders drooped and he crumbled the edge of the parchment. "I really thought I had done better." It might go against his pride to get a 'P' in an exam he had truly learned for (if he had), but that happened sometimes in real life. He could not always be lucky.

"I am truly sorry, Harry." Dumbledore said, his twinkle back full force; and Harry ignored the snort coming from the corner and the spiteful glee that reached him through the bond. "But you won't be able to attend Potions in NEWTs level class."

"Yes, sir. I understand." Harry said glumly and frowned. He did not like the old man's choice of words in that matter. "It would not be fair to the other students." He shrugged, putting on his brave Gryffindor front. "I'm sure I'll find other things to do after school. I'll just have to look, now, when I can't become an Auror anymore." He did not have time for that greasy git anyway – at least not to be yelled at. Save a few prepared meetings, Harry would be far better off to keep as far away from that man as possible – of course, only after he had made the man sniff those things out that Harry was comfortable with, nothing that mattered for his future, though.

Harry shook his head. He could not let his thoughts wander. Mentally, he hit himself. Back to attending classes – or not attending. It was not really a drama. Maybe it would have been last year, but now? At least, Harry would not get as much detentions as before. More time to research was always favorable. Harry had thought about it during the night. What he should do if – against everything – he actually made it into the class. That, of course, solved the problem quite easily, to which he still had not found another reasonable solution.

"Ah!" Dumbledore twinkled and shook his head. "That is not necessarily right, Harry."

"What?" the boy questioned cautiously. It should be done now, Dumbledore should get to the next topic.

"You can still become an Auror." Dumbledore smiled merrily, obviously satisfied how things developed. "You can take the required NEWTs in a study group – or course – at the Wizarding University. When you take the average Potions class you should be very well prepared for that. It will not take longer than half a year to catch up if you put yourself to work."

His gaze firmly fixed on his OWL results, Harry did not dare to look up. He was certain that Dumbledore thought himself a genius; Snape had not seen that coming – he could not have known beforehand, because Harry knew he deciphered the bond quite right. The git did not seem so gleeful anymore, though even more spiteful. Average Potions? Harry fumed silently. He did not think so.

To be in average Potions would be far worse than attending the NEWTs level class. Snape would use every opportunity to rub that 'P' in Harry's face. He could live with this – it was expected that Snape ridiculed him every time they met (for failing said class and – worse – for attending the other). Even though Harry had decided not to let himself being baited, he knew that his resolve was not endless. He was still very much human. For every person it gave that point when you had no choice but to react, when your resolve could no longer role up the hill and inevitably begun its way down to shatter when it reached the ground. Harry would reach that point very fast when Snape opened his mouth one time too often.

Their past was not set out for a peaceful future. Even in Diagon Alley Harry had been very near to say something, to do something – anything, when the git let loose his tongue. Harry did not have his emotions under as much control as he would like. The fact was very much known to him; and his fear to loose control and to blow that man and his classmates into pieces was very real. Although, in case of controlling his more passionate side, Hogwarts seemed to have helped. It was not easy to be objective of his emotions, but Harry felt more angry now than he had allowed himself to be since this fateful night in summer. It seemed to become easier to keep everything in. Maybe he could deal with Snape more often, but this was not something he wanted to test in classes.

"Average Potions, sir?" This time Harry did not bother to hide his grimace. He was sure it was expected. Yes. Dumbledore's eyes were even brighter now. Stupid old codger. Harry's lips twisted. "No pun intended, sir, but I'd rather go to that university for a whole year and skip Potions class entirely." Harry smiled lightly. Dumbledore did not like that very much, though Snape did.

"Well, I think the Potions class would be an advantage. After all, if you want to become an Auror it –"

"Yes, headmaster. I'm aware of that fact." said angry Harry from last year agitated. "I'm not required to take average Potions, am I sir?"

"No, Harry. Average Potions is not required." Dumbledore sighed. Obviously he had just realized that it would be a lot harder to get Harry to do what he wanted. "Don't you want to take average Potions, Harry?"

Harry barely suppressed his fury. It was all right when that coot tried to play a mad hat, but nobody would buy this stupidity act.

"No, sir." Harry breathed, his eyes flashing. "Actually, I do not want to take this class at all." He said with a slight tremor in his voice.

"I think you should take it all the same."

"I don't want to take that class, sir!" Harry flat out refused, not even glancing back to the Potions Master, whose face was once again – or still – an expressionless mask, but when Harry looked through the bond it was clear that he would for once agree even with a Potter (had said boy not been present to listen).

"It will still help you to become an Auror, Harry." The man popped another lemon drop into his mouth and Harry grit his teeth.

"Sir, I –"

"For a month, Harry." Dumbledore said and gestured sharply to stop Harry's tirade. "If after a month you want to quit Potions class, I'm not going to stop you."

Harry's eyes narrowed suspiciously. What now? Negotiation? Another approach to get the same thing? A month could not bring that much a difference, could it? What was Dumbledore after? Harry thought quickly, ignoring the fury he got through the bond as well as the all knowing twinkle. He suppressed a snarl. That old fool. What did he think he was doing?

"All right, sir. One month in average Potions, than I'll quit."

"If you still want too, Harry."

"Of course, sir." Harry smiled sweetly. "Only if I still want to." Bastard. What was it with Dumbledore that the old coot always stuck him together with the greasy git? What did he think he would accomplish, when he did it again and again? But it were only four lessons, one per week. He would take his emotions together and hope to get through it without major damage – like blowing a certain git into pieces right along one interfering old codger.

"I just have one condition, sir."

"You have?" Dumbledore nearly swallowed his stupid lemon drop.

"Yes, sir." Harry's face was set. He waited a moment for the drumroll to finish in his head – until the tension was palpable. "I won't take remedial potions this year – for any reason." This should set things into motion very nicely. Surprise and puzzlement reached him through the bond. Harry suppressed a tiny smile. "It did not really help last year. I don't need it anymore."

Harry shifted in his seat and began speaking as soon as the headmaster opened his mouth. "I won't go to… remedial Potions, sir." After all, Harry could not actually seem to want to have those Occlumency lessons Dumbledore would try to talk him into. One ploy for Snape, another one for Dumbledore – so that they were both occupied; and there was still his head of house to help him out if everything else failed.

"Can we talk about my NEWTs now, sir? That is why you called me up." Harry requested, waving the parchment impatiently in his hand. For an instant, it seemed as if the old man would try furthering the topic of him taking remedial Potions, but than he gave in; and Harry did not doubt that they would talk about it again before he got out of this office.

"Of course, Harry." Dumbledore said, apparently, fully agreeable.

"I'd like to take Charms, Defense, Herbology and Transfiguration for NEWTs level, sir." Harry listed, never looking up from the parchment. "Care of Magical Creatures and History as average courses." It was his luck that Harry had listened to Hermione prattling on and on about which classes were required (Defense and History) and how much NEWTs courses (three) a Hogwarts' student would have to take for minimum. He really would have liked to drop Defense. Firstly, he really did not need it anymore (Tom had presented him a very wide ranged knowledge on this subject); and secondly, the peacock gave him creeps, and that did not only relate to his choice of attire. Sadly, Harry Potter would have no choice but to take Defense against the Dark Arts; and he could not take less courses than most of his classmates did; but he chose those he would have the least problems to keep up without actually having to invest time in learning.

"I'll see if I can get you into those classes, Harry. It is, after all, a bit late for choosing courses." He looked imploringly above his glasses when he took back the parchment from Harry's hand. "Why did you not read your letters, Harry? I assume they reached you."

"Er… yes, sir. They did." Shrugging uncomfortably, the boy began boring a hole into the arm rest of his seat. "I had just a lot of thinking to do, sir." Harry looked at the old man, his eyes full of pain. "I guess I was not really up to it."

"That's understandable, Harry." Dumbledore nodded, a sad something mixing with his twinkle – which increased fast to something more foreboding. Harry waited with narrowed eyes.

"There is something else I have to tell you, Harry." His eyes now wide open, Harry tried to guess what was coming now. He really would have like to read the old coot's aura. Snape's emotions were only side-tracking. Harry knew already that the man hated him to the core.

"I am sorry to say that you are still banned from Quidditch." This time Dumbledore seemed truly sorry – the satisfaction that reached Harry through the bond, though, climbed to new heights. Vicious, insensitive, old bat!

Paling, it was just a moment Harry hesitated, pain replaced by anger, before he jumped out of his chair, bumping straight in the headmaster's desk, and made the tea spill on the papers; but the Gryffindor did not care.

"What! This bitch can't get away with that! It's crazy! I didn't do anything! Flying is the only thing I…" Harry stopped his rant with a heavy sigh, blinking away the feelings that rose up in his eyes, his fists clenched and his jaw set.

"I'm very sorry, Harry, but a lifelong ban or sentence to Azkaban – anything like that – can only be lifted or altered by the minister himself." He tried to look apologetic, but Harry did not believe that anything what the old coot did (or neglected to do) happened without reasons… and his agreement.

It was the Potions Masters snorts in the background that made Harry moving; he sneered back surprisingly vicious before he let himself fall back into his padded seat, caught his breath and tried to keep calm. He still could have a ride on his broom. Being in the team would take away too much time, anyway. It was good he was not going to play anymore. It really was, but a lifelong ban… only because of that stupid bitch and a fool of a minister. Shit!

"You may of course keep the Firebolt and fly at the appointed hours at the weekends as all the other students, who are not part of the Quidditch teams."

Harry did not say anything, but his jaw clenched until his teeth ached, truly becoming angry now – and trying not to be. He could keep his Firebolt? Had that man completely gone off the rocker? Of course he would keep his Firebolt, he would keep it even if it was the only thing that could kill Voldemort. He grimaced. Probably, Harry would give it away in that case. But really! He was allowed to keep his Firebolt!

"Thank you, sir." Harry bit out politely, but did not try to hide the blazing of his eyes. He really wished that he could destroy that office once again. Stupid old coot. "I'd really like to keep the broom. It's the first thing Si… Sirius got for me… ever." The stutter at his godfather's name was not much faked when he threw the old twinkler the bait he was waiting for since Snape had so nicely accompanied Harry to his office. It was time to get to the real stuff. The men grated on his nerves and Harry did not know how long he could keep his thinking calm and a step ahead of them – even if it was only an inch or two.

Dumbledore seemed to think for a moment when he scrutinized Harry with open concern.

"How do you feel about your godfather? About Sirius?" he asked quietly and Harry thought the men must hear his teeth grinding. Was that man not a nosy one? Did he never rub someone up the wrong way to know when it was impolite to question further? He should have some sense to know when he should stop. Harry smiled crookedly, hidden for curios eyes while watching the ground. To tell the old man to jump in the lake would take things a bit far for Harry's liking, though he rather liked how the thought played out in his head. He would settle for being guilty and being angry at Dumbledore for calling him upon his guilt – very angry.

"Do you think me stupid?" Harry clenched his fists. "I know very well that it's my fault." Partly, Harry thought, his eyes narrowing. Only for a part and not even most of it, the main part was all the old man's own. "There's no need to rub in, you old coot!" Harry allowed himself that little slip. He always wanted to call him that to his face. His face red with anger, Harry let his feelings run free. "Can't you keep out of my life? I don't need you meddling even more! You have done enough for me to last me for a lifetime! Thank you very much, sir, but I really don't think it's your business!" The pictures on the wall began to rattle. Something like apprehension drifted through the bond.

Suddenly, Harry deflated completely and looked up to the old man, who was calmly sucking on his lemon drop, watching him. "I'm sorry, headmaster." Harry said as meekly as he could manage. "That was uncalled for." He grimaced, but not because of what he had said. "I apologize for nearly loosing control – again. I'm sorry, sir." It was hard – really hard – to play emotions that were very much real; though, Harry refused to feel guilty for anything that happened. There was no guilt, only decisions and their consequences. Guilt was a dream. Harry sighed.

He might be a Gryffindor and – just maybe – even a bit stupid in catching on to some things, but that one fact he knew – there was no guilt to bear. Sirius had been a grown man with a flaring temper – much like Ron. He should know the consequences of rushing into things. Certainly, Harry had taken part in some really not well thought through things that ended pretty badly, but that would not happen again, and as long as Harry made sure of that he would and could live further with his godfather as a reminder that for some decisions – if right or wrong – he needed to pay a prize that did not justify the means of going through with his decision at all; though some others were well worth the prize – however high it was stocked. Harry did not really want to think about Sirius – or his death! Not now, and not until he was somewhere safe. Harry, mourning his godfather's death, was real; and it did not have a place in this conversation. Somewhere deep down he still wanted to cry for his loss, though his feelings were double-edged and would stay that way until his own death. He shook his head.

"I really don't want to destroy your office, again." Harry pulled a face. "I mean, I did not want to do it the first time. I was just… I'm sorry." He wrung his hands in his lap. Just as he needed something from them to work with, the old man would need some reactions from Harry if he wanted to gain back his… trust – or whatever.

Harry thought he played the little, guilty Gryffindor, depending on Dumbledore's good graces (despite everything) quite good. However, he could not say how the headmaster took his little outburst, because the old man was still twinkling away merrily. Perhaps though, he had bought his act. Harry could at least hope so, even as he expertly ignored the incredulous and outright revolting expression on his Potions Masters haggard face when Harry looked at him out of the corner of his eye. The bond gave only suspicion; but this here was for the headmaster's benefit, Snape would get his own in due time.

"It's alright, Harry. You have had a hard time." The boy watched his hands. "You do not have to talk about it." Harry looked up. He did not? That would be new; but, somewhere in the back of his head, he registered that Dumbledore did not disabuse him of the idea that the death of his godfather was, indeed, not his fault. Harry's eyes narrowed inadvertently.

That was his game! At first, make the fool boy loose his calm, make him feel angry with you; than turn his anger into guilt, let him feel guilty about being angry with you to begin with; and, afterwards, when the ignorant, little boy began to feel grateful for not being questioned further on his guilt – begin to question him about those things that are of real importance to you. Lastly, when the emotional unbalanced teenage boy ate himself up with the guilt to have led his godfather to his death (it had to be true when even Dumbledore seemed to think so), let the boy's own conscience work in your favour to bring down his reservations to talk about any topic – as long as he could avoid the one of his godfather. Heartless bastard! Even Snape seemed slightly appalled when the bond gave any true indication, though, Harry doubted that he would see a reaction should he turn to look at the man. Nevertheless, it gave him back some of his calm.

"Thank you, sir." Harry nodded with a painful smile. "I truly appreciate that." Glancing through the window right behind the old man, Harry took a deep breath and leaned back. Let the storm rage outside, Harry would not.


	29. Chapter 28 : Tea Talk

**Title:** Harry Potter and the Summer's Secret

_**Author:** Japhu _

_**Pairing:** HPSS_

_**Rating:** R_

_**Disclaimer:** I own nothing of Harry Potter and his world and don't make any money with it._

_**Summary:** For one week in summer Harry disappears without trace. When he comes back he claims to have no memory. But something happened and it changed him. It remains to be seen if for the better or the worse. (will be HPSS)_

_**Category:** action/adventure/angst_

_**Feedback:** highly appreciated_

* * *

**Chapter 28 – Tea Talk**

It was clear that Harry would not say anything else on the matter of his godfather, Sirius Black; but neither of those present broke the silence, which pressed down heavily on them. Harry simply waited what Dumbledore would come up with; and the headmaster seemed to decide how to begin. The oppressing moment seemed longer than it truly was. Harry thought that the old codger would probably want to make sure that he really was swallowed up in his guilt. Harry bit the inside of his cheeks. He wanted to get out of here. He had waited long enough.

"What did you want to talk about, sir?" Harry tried to look as grateful as somehow possible. That was a truly hard feat to accomplish as he did not feel grateful at all. The Gryffindor was far from trusting his headmaster ever again.

"Would you want a cup of tea, Harry?" Blinking suspiciously, Harry nodded and watched while the headmaster poured him a cup, and another for himself. Harry nearly turned around to ask Snape if he wanted some – just to rile him up a bit more. The man's patience seemed to wear thin; and, apparently, the headmaster had completely forgotten his silent watcher (or he only wanted Harry to forget him).

"Thanks, sir." Harry took the cup with a smile. It was good to have something to keep his hands occupied with when he was forbidden to throttle the old twinkler.

The manipulative bastard was always smiling his way through his deliberate deceptions. At first, he always tried the back door, never mind that he would have probably been invited (at some point in the past) had the old man – figuratively – knocked on the front door. Harry smiled back shakily. The headmaster would not manage to make him feel guilty enough to tell him his soul's deepest secrets. Sly bastard. Dumbledore certainly would have done well in Slytherin, though hopefully not as well as Harry. It did not really matter – Harry knew him a bit better now; and it seemed that Harry had more Slytherin in him than anything else – for now, at least.

Harry wondered why they still upheld the sorting if it was all a farce. It really did not say much about the working of one's mind. It would be easier to just pick some names and sort the new students in evenly matched classes like the Muggles did, then everyone would at least have the same point to start off from – more or less (when said student was not accompanied by a hateful, heavily overweight cousin).

"What was there that you wanted to talk about, sir?" Questioningly, Harry looked up to his headmaster with guilty eyes, hiding whatever feelings he had. A change of topic was appropriate, and they had still some matters to discuss. Now, what wormed the old man the most? What would he want to talk about foremost?

"Well." The headmaster waited for Harry to take a sip from his tea before he cleared his throat to get the boy's attention. Dumbledore sighed heavily. "Let's begin with what Professor Snape told me yesterday." He looked imploringly at Harry as if waiting for the boy to fall to pieces with guilt and a conscience that had to weigh on him.

"What did he tell? I didn't do anything." Harry rose to defend himself, throwing a wary glance at the black robed man, who seemed to nearly disappear in the little shadow he had found in the corner.

"Professor Snape did not accuse you of anything." Harry felt the twitch in the bond as surely as he heard the barely audible grunt when Dumbledore said that. "Professor Snape merely said you had an interesting encounter in Diagon Alley, Harry."

Oh! The Red Robes? Harry sat back. Now that was a matter he was interested in himself. He knew next to nothing about them, save that they seemed to be in par with old Tom. Somehow. It would be helpful if Dumbledore told him what he knew about them, though the chances for that were the same as the possibility of being struck by lightning at a clear summer's day.

Harry thought about the way he wanted to go on. He had made the experience that if you seem to be knowledgeable people will begin to think you are; and they might talk about things in your presence (when they let you stay), because they believe you know already. It would not make sense to try hiding knowledge you are already acquainted with. This way, if Harry played his cards right, he would gather a lot more information than they thought he possibly could from just listening to them. Although, if that worked with Snape and Dumbledore was something for the betting pool, but perhaps he could learn something from all this while time passed by.

"Would you tell me how you ended up there?" Dumbledore looked very much like Harry thought a grandfather would look at a grandchild that had accidentally stepped on his dentures – an then jumped on it, thinking it was fun to hear the crunching noise.

Harry glanced at his tea cup and took a sip to buy time. What the red robed wizards had done in Diagon Alley he did not know; although, after he had gotten free from that spell it seemed as if they had wanted to trap… someone with their mumble jumble. Harry would not take bets on who they wanted to find, but he would feel much better if he knew for sure. More important was what they had done in summer during the ritual, or why they had been there in the first place – Harry did not know nor truly remember. It was hard to concentrate on other things than what was threatening one's immediate life. When he had first seen them out of the corner of his eye – Harry was certain it had been them – he had been very much in pain and occupied to somehow fight off Voldemort. Harry sighed and sipped his tea until he finally felt Snape growing palpably impatient (no question through the bond).

"My uncle needed to go to a meeting." Harry started his little tale. "He got me there early so that I wouldn't miss the train." Harry gave a fleeting glance backwards. What had the Potions Master told? This was a part Harry did not like – relying on other people's predictability. He was certain that Snape had kept some information to himself. The man was just too paranoid to give away all ammunition he had gained. What Harry did not know was what information the man had kept to himself. Harry bit his lip and took another sip of his rapidly cooling tea before looking up at the expectantly waiting headmaster.

"Yep, that is how I ended up there." Harry blinked and leaned back. It was a minute of silence when Dumbledore glanced at him imploringly. Obviously, the old man wanted to know a bit more. Harry shrugged serenely and gave in with a little suffering sigh for good measure.

"I thought that it was a bit early, too, sir. But uncle Vernon really needed to get to his appointment in time." Two could play stupid. Calmly, Harry took another small sip from his tea. He did not like tea very much, but it was as good an opportunity to keep busy and blind to the man's questions as anything else he could come up with. And another sip.

"I doubt my uncle reached his office in time, though." Harry nodded sadly. One could not recognize how much he had to fight to keep the 'uncle' indifferent to suspiciously listening ears.

"He really hurried off." Another, smaller sip; and Dumbledore held up a hand to stop Harry's less than informative rambling. Harry suppressed a smile behind his cup.

"Sir?" He frowned. Harry could practically hear the git of Potions professor seething – he needed no bond for that.

"The wizards you met, Harry." Dumbledore said with a heavy sigh and bit his lemon drop to pieces. "Tell me about the wizards, would you?"

"Oh, of course." Harry smiled and traced the rim of the cup. "I was just wandering around when I saw one of them. I followed him into this odd alley way. I had really nothing better to do and he was more interesting than the other people in Diagon Alley." Harry gave his account and shrugged, his forehead furrowed thoughtfully. "He kept glancing back and things. I thought he'd be a Death Eater in disguise or so. Anyway, he met with the other odd guys, who looked just like him." Regretfully, Harry shook his head. "I could not understand what they were talking about, so I hid behind some barrels and watched." With a heavy sigh Harry told the avidly listening headmaster how his Gryffindor bravery had made itself known; and how he wanted to get closer to listen to them and to figure out what they were plotting.

Harry kept it to the bare facts. He said nothing about a spell hitting him, about the need to go over to them to do what they did; nothing of him seeing magic and feeling its surge and its hunger for power and life. It would certainly not be in Snape's side of the story, so there was no need for Harry to bring it up – not when he wanted to keep his abilities to himself.

Grimacing, Harry remembered the moment when Snape had… rescued him. He really would like to rile that bat up even more. Darkly glancing towards the Potions Master – the arrogant bastard seemed still mostly bored, but Harry knew differently (for a minute curiosity overrode the hate he felt) – Harry shrugged carelessly before he spoke again, petulantly and sure of himself.

"I was still hearing nothing but a murmur when… Snape," Harry sneered right along with his Potions professor, "barged into me and gave away my position." Harry pulled a face as if nothing else could be expected. "Well, the wizards saw us, so… Professor Snape," Harry changed his address on Dumbledore's silly request, "run away to hide and nearly threw me off my feet, because he didn't let go of me, and I almost stumbled about his stupid robe." Harry nodded to himself, glancing at his cup. "He run really fast, too."

Pleased with himself, Harry winced inwardly when the hate flared up to new heights. The bond was burning with intensity of the feelings sent through. It was a little miracle – certainly only due to the headmaster's presence – that Snape managed to stay in his corner and did not jump at Harry's throat just then. Harry glanced at the dark robed man, his head tilted thoughtfully. Maybe he should keep away from the dungeons for the next few days. Harry made a notice in his head to keep at least two of his friends with him whenever he felt the need to visit there.

"Well." Dumbledore gazed silently at Harry – his eyes twinkling merrily at his Potions Master for an instant – and popped a new lemon drop into his mouth. Stroking his beard, he seemed to be deep in thought. "The end differs a bit from what Professor Snape told me, Harry." Although, he seemed quite amused about Harry's account, nevertheless.

Harry blinked and shrugged innocently. He had nothing to hide. Even if Harry was angry at him, the Gryffindor hated that Potions git. It could not be wrong to remind them of this small fact, lest it escaped their notice (it was a thing Harry relied on). Harry glared at the spiteful man forcefully, knowing he would get no reaction out of him; though the feeling of hot burning hate he got through the mark increased dramatically and it made Harry smile (if a bit pained).

"No doubt about that, sir." Harry was still glancing at the Potions Master. It was interesting to see how the emotions he could feel through the bond were displayed – or rather repressed – on the man's sullen expression. It could not be healthy; and it would not be long until he lost it. The git would be hard pressed to stay an – apparently – unbiased observer. Too bad. Why should Harry be the only one feeling uncomfortable during their little meeting, though.

Harry shifted in his seat, trying in vain to find a way to release the waves of negative emotions that tried to swallow him up. The first signs of a massive headache were creeping up in his temples. When Harry really attended this stupid Potions lessons (he did not doubt that he would) he needed to find a way to stop the bond from working.

To think that Voldemort had objected himself to the bond's torture voluntarily, not only with one Death Eater but with all of them, should tell how crazy that snake faced bastard really was. It was disturbing to know what his Potions Master felt; and the more heated the emotions were the harder it was to keep his own. No wonder Voldemort was such a vile thing when he got constantly bombarded with countless, twisted emotions of sick muck suckers like Malfoy and Lestrange… not to forget Snape. There had to be a way to stop it.

Harry jerked around when he heard his name mentioned. Again, his thoughts had drifted, but this time he seemed to have missed something important. Harry glanced cautiously at Dumbledore. The old man was, for once, staring intently at the Potions Master. Harry followed the headmasters gaze. The hate through the bond was biting, but Harry's lips twitched. He had wondered when the git would stick his oar in their little tea talk session. It seemed he had done so already.

"…You should ask Potter, headmaster." The man sneered contemptuously just when Harry's attention snapped back to them. "The… boy seems to know more about them than he lets on." The words imbecile and twit were not said but still very much audible; Harry did not care.

Harry's mind was doing somersaults as he quickly tried to figure out what the git was talking about; and when he had – figured it out that was – Harry took another sip of tea to hide his smile. Finally. It seemed their conversation had reached the next stage.

"Harry?" Dumbledore's aged head bend towards him, his expression solemn as he questioned the boy. "Is Professor Snape right?"

"What do you mean, sir?" Harry looked confused at the headmaster. "I've never seen them before."

"The vision, Potter." Snape bit out, clearly at the end of his patience.

Harry blinked as if caught off guard. Here it was. Snape getting back at him – or trying to. Greasy bastard thought to outwit him. It seemed Harry had been right; the vengeful man could not keep his mouth shut when his pride and abilities were belittled – by a Potter no less. Or did he think that Dumbledore would get more information out of an obviously brain dead Gryffindor than he had? He was really a git. Harry's eyes flashed when he leaned back, reassured that what they were trying to make him talk about was nothing of importance, and making certain they knew that he thought so.

"Oh, that one." Harry groaned seemingly bored. "I didn't know what they were then. The vision was an old one." Harry glared at the Potions Master. "As I told… him already." Harry grit his teeth. He had to crane his neck to look at the man. If Snape had to have his say could he not at least have the decency to come forward, so that Harry could see both of them at once, without getting stiff? Grumbling, he turned back to the headmaster. "Really. I did not have another since."

"A vision!" Dumbledore's eyes blazed with… something. "When did you have a vision about those wizards, Harry?"

"It was only a few days after I arrived at Privet Drive." Harry frowned. "I'm not even sure it was a vision, sir. It could have been a dream… or a wrong one from Voldemort." He looked sadly down in his lap, the small cup of tea swaying on his clenched knees when his guilt rose up anew.

"Let that be for us to worry, Harry." The headmaster nodded reassuringly, and with clearly less patience than he wanted the boy to believe. "Just tell me about it, Harry, and then we'll decide what to do about it."

"All right." Harry shrugged after a moment's hesitation. "They were just standing in a circle, sir. They didn't do anything I could see, just standing around, waving their hands about and staring upward." He grimaced as if he felt silly to tell them about something where nothing had really happened. His other visions had always been a bit more bloody or a bit more active, at least. Hopefully – and at the same time anything but – Harry glanced brightly at his headmaster, depending on the old man to figure things out. "Do you think it was one, sir?

Contemplatively, the old man poured himself another cup of steaming hot tea. "Harry?" He offered the boy a second one.

"No, thanks." Harry held up his cup. "I still have some, sir. Could it be a real vision?" He got back to the things that mattered.

"I cannot be sure, Harry." Dumbledore shook his head, never letting drift his gaze from the boy. "Did you see the surroundings, land marks, anything that could tell you where they had been?"

"No, sir." Harry spun his tale further. "Although, it was somewhat creepy. I saw only the wizards, everything else was just dark as if they were floating in… in nothing." Harry watched the old man attentively while he told his vision, and kept this 'inner eye' of the newly grown bond on Snape as much as he could manage, because he could not actively influence it yet. Harry tried to figure out how they received his little story; but except that Snape was still suspicious and spiteful, though intrigued too, Harry could not come up with anything useful. Even though, Harry thought it was one of his easier tasks these days to take his encounter in Diagon Alley and model it to something else entirely.

For his little vision to work Harry only needed to take the Red Robes out of Diagon Alley – into something dark (certainly, if they met anywhere else it would be dark and clammy as all bad guys in novels hid where it was just that) – and let them do what they had done before – standing around. For anyone unable to see the magic at work they had done nothing else. So Harry did not mention the extraordinary way they handled their powers, only told of the circle they formed as this was something recognizable to anyone who watched.

Harry was more than certain that those Red Robes must have done a circle thing like that more often than the one or two times he had witnessed it. He seriously doubted that the wizards were a phenomenon that would simply vanish if they just waited long enough for it to happen. The Red Robes had come from somewhere and would certainly go back to wherever that was when they had accomplished what they were sent to do, but between those two they would assuredly honor the Wizarding World with one or another visit; and maybe they had done that already.

It was only logical to assume further that if anyone knew about the Red Robes Dumbledore (who was unable to stop meddling) was one of the few knowledgeable; and when the old fool was busy to manipulate the world at large Snape was most probably another one knee deep involved in this game.

In Diagon Alley the obnoxious man had reacted fast and never showed a hint of surprise. Harry would bet that the git had not seen those robed wizards for a first time that day; although, Harry quietly admitted to himself that Snape was very adept in keeping his face bare of anything that would be even remotely human; and he was a spy… and had been a Death Eater. So maybe it had been the first time and only Harry's presence prevented him from staring perplexed at a strange group of wizards doing nothing.

Harry frowned and took a very small sip of tea while Dumbledore seemed to be deep in thought about a vision that had not existed before Harry set his feet into this office. Frowning still, Harry thought back to Diagon Alley. Why had Snape pulled him back when he could see nothing but a group of admittedly conspicuous but innocent wizards doing nothing? They could have been tourists for all he knew. Then Harry remembered the red robed wizards' faces – or the place where their faces should have been. That alone with the way they rounded on them was probably enough to make someone like Snape more than a little suspicious; or he had seen them before and knew what to expect. It led all back to the beginning.

Harry took a last sip of cold tea and balanced the empty cup on his knees before he made himself known to the headmaster again. The old coot could finish plotting whatever he came up with when Harry was out of here. He could not say why, but from moment to moment he felt more… restless; as if something was here that had not been an instant before.

"Could I have a bit more now, sir?" Harry cleared his throat and handed his cup over with a bravely suffering sigh to take it back thankfully, filled to the rim with newly heated tea. He was in no way willing to give up his only excuse to think a bit longer before he had to answer the old man's questions. Although, Harry still did not like tea. Too much of it in his early years, that and water as far as Harry could remember; though, he smiled when Dumbledore filled his cup anew without question. Regretfully though, the refilling of the cup had brought the headmaster's attention back to his innocently, if a bit impatiently waiting Gryffindor student.

"Thank you, Harry, for telling me of this vision. Are you sure that it was the only one you had?" Dumbledore enquired with another of his serious twinkles above his spectacles, implying quite blatantly that Harry could not possibly be sure of it, at all.

"Yes, sir." Harry nodded eagerly. He knew from which direction the wind blew.

"It was quite an unusual one, Harry. You could have overseen another one for a simple dream." The old man smiled benignly, making a guilty Gryffindor think that he was doing just that.

"If it was one, sir." Harry piped in, frowning. "And I am sure."

"It is imperative for you to learn to occlude your mind."

"It would if Voldemort still attacked me." Harry grunt out. "But he didn't, and he doesn't anymore! Not once. So it isn't necessary." He forgot to add the respectful 'sir' in the heat of the moment, though it did not seem to bother Dumbledore much. Harry would bet that the coot was glad to have finally broken his 'shell'.

"Now, Harry, that really is not up for negotiation." The old man seemed broken-hearted – just like Snape, but for an absolutely different reason.

"Yes, sir." Harry nodded. "It really is not up for negotiation." His gaze was blazing anger as the Gryffindor held his cup tightly. "I won't go to Occlumency. I won't have it!" He grit his teeth until his jaw ached.

"Very well, we'll see, Harry." The headmaster nodded to himself, not even looking at Harry again for the moment. "There is not much we can do. Let's see if those visions have stopped as you think."

"Yes, sir." The boy breathed evenly and glanced darkly up at him. "They have!" he could not help but add angrily. Taking a long gulp of tea – it burned his tongue but woke him up for another round – Harry concentrated to do what he had shortly come to decide.

Having Dumbledore to believe him completely would be perfect, but nowhere near possible if he thought it through to the end – as he had done in the long hours of his night.

During weeks the old man had time to think of this summer and everything that happened alongside the mysteries surrounding Harry Potter. Dumbledore knew that Harry had been gone, and whatever Harry told him – maybe he even believed him – he would never truly let go of his suspicion; he would always watch and observe from the shadows, much like the Potions Master. One small mistake, a tiny slip when it mattered and Harry would not have time to wonder before he woke up in Azkaban … or somewhere else hidden away and kept safe for everyone else's sake – and his own.

Harry looked at the headmaster, sure that his face displayed open anger, guilt and now a bit of desperation. Harry felt the distant pain behind his temples rising to a dull throb as, next to the bond's awareness, he felt something else of what he had hoped would not have to be dealt with for some time. It seemed Tom and he did not quite agree in the advantage of invisibility, or the other simply had no more survival instinct than a stinking pile of rotten mud.

The important thing was that Harry could not predict the headmaster any longer, not in this… mess. The old man had made so much mistakes when it came to do the best for Harry Potter that the best for Harry Potter could very well mean Harry Potter's death – quietly arranged and with all honours a dead hero could wish for in the Wizarding World. Harry simply did not know how the old man would react, and he did not have the trust to risk everything on pure belief.

Dumbledore never let other people decide in what he marked 'important things', it were always his decisions, and always other people who had to live with the consequences. It was simply not right. Dumbledore thought himself to be infallible, and if he failed then everyone else would certainly have failed too; and this was outrageously wrong. Harry needed a backdoor, a way out in case he messed up and Dumbledore was watching and meddling.


	30. Chapter 29 : Never Surrender

**Title:** Harry Potter and the Summer's Secret

_**Author:** Japhu_

_**Pairing:** HPSS_

_**Rating:** R_

_**Disclaimer:** I own nothing of Harry Potter and his world and don't make any money with it._

_**Summary:** For one week in summer Harry disappears without trace. When he comes back he claims to have no memory. But something happened and it changed him. It remains to be seen if for the better or the worse. (will be HPSS)_

_**Category:** action/adventure/angst_

_**Feedback:** highly appreciated_

* * *

**Chapter 29 – Never Surrender**

His brow knitted and his jaw set in an angry line, Harry looked deliberately past the headmaster, watching the storm gathering more and more force, waiting for it to blow the tower apart. It would not be easy to catch a snitch in a storm like that, but Harry would let them chase their snitches, nevertheless; it would give him time enough to catch his own when nobody was looking. Although, at first, he had to let them loose.

Relaxing slightly without making it visible, Harry was not one to let pass a moment of peace. Carefully, Harry used the time to sort his thoughts and – while drawing deep and calming breaths as one gust of wind after the other hit the castle with an angry howl – to enforce the barrier around that small and hidden part within his mind that held the soul and essence of what had once been Voldemort.

Harry constantly needed to draw on his powers to keep Tom's prison intact. He did it almost unconsciously now, but Harry became aware of it again when Tom raged against the magical walls. He felt the energy run through his body; and he knew that he could not hold up his magic working this way forever. It was exhausting and would become even more so. The incessant flow of magic that Harry let run through himself to keep Tom where he was had only one – well, two – advantages. Firstly, the obvious – Tom was safely put away; secondly, Harry knew instantly when Tom got up to something new to try. Harry always knew what Tom was doing. Not that he could really talk to him or read his mind, but whenever Tom became more… determined Harry felt it and knew that Tom tried to better him again. It seemed to work similar to the way the Dark Mark's bond reacted since Hogwarts had taken the better part of Harry's magic. Glancing thoughtfully towards the old man, Harry would have liked to know what he thought the castle was doing, or if he was aware of the castle at all.

"You'll never believe me, will you?" His hands clenched forcefully, Harry waited. With effort his breath came short and ragged. Never leaving the old man out of his angry gaze, he tried to keep in mind – be angry, but not too angry; insolent, but not too insolent; guilty, but not too guilty; curious, but not too curious – a hell of job he had taken upon his shoulders. Only when the old man looked at him expectantly, urging the Gryffindor boy to say something, to explain himself, Harry jumped head first in the abyss, breathing deeply while doing so. He called up the resentment smouldering close under the surface.

"Why am I to tell you everything? Why am I here when you don't believe what I say, anyway?" Harry said what he wanted to say for months now (if slightly different), though never once did he give up control. He still knew what he was doing. It was time to call in another round. "You take what you need and find useful; to everything else you just nod before you throw it away without so much as a glance. I told you I have had no vision, save this one." Harry had the cup in a grip so tight that the tiny porcelain tool shook in his hand.

"You say I may be right and you thank me for telling you, and in the same sentence you doubt everything I told and make it sound as if I'm walking around half mad for saying so; only because you want me to take those stupid Occlumency lesson that did not help me the first time around." Harry forced his hand to loose the grip around the tiny cup. "Honestly, they made everything worse! But did you care? No! Not even now! You nod and say it's all right and then you do what you always do." Harry had a hard time to balance his tea cup without sloshing. He took a deep breath.

"I don't want to – and will not – take Occlumency lessons from some prejudiced, arrogant little… professor, who can't even get his own head out of the gutter long enough to realize that nobody but he cares a shit about what he thinks or does or doesn't do."

On pure instinct Harry pressed his magic forward when the Dark Mark's bond swelled to a liquid fire of wrath. How Harry managed that he did not know, but whatever it was it made the feeling of his skin burning retreat; and it pulled the mental walls he had erected closer together than ever before. Harry felt Tom raging against them as the walls closed in on him. With every heart beat breathing became more taxing.

Harry did not turn around to look at his professor, but a sharp gesture and a meaningful gaze from Dumbledore towards the point where all the fury centred itself right behind him made Harry believe that he would possibly live a moment longer. Maybe he had been a bit too insolent. He should not rile that man up all that much. Time for a change of topic. Harry hoped that now the old man and his… right hand man were open enough to take what he came up with without too much questioning his words.

"I say it again, sir. I hope you listen. I really didn't have another vision." Narrowed eyes flared up angrily with accusation. Dumbledore said nothing. His expression was closed and gave not a thing away, not even a twinkle. When fury did not work then maybe sadness and disappointment might get the message across.

"Why don't you believe anything I say?" With an air of regret, Harry pulled his cup closer to him and watched it for a quiet moment. When he looked up again, there was sorrow and a dim expression of acceptance towards the inevitable visible on his face. "Is all that matters to you Voldemort? Is all that you care about what I have seen in that snake face's mind?" Harry made it sound like a question – but not. The tea in his cup sloshed on his robe and made him hiss in pain when the hot liquid came through his pants.

With as much caution as Harry could come up with in his current state of mind he put the cup safely away on Dumbledore's desk; and as soon as his hands were free he balled his fists until the knuckles stood out white – not to express emotions, but to suppress the pain that split his head open, an inconvenient echo from Tom's newest attempt to get what he wanted now when it truly could not have been more unwelcome; or maybe the former lord was just claustrophobic.

"Can't you take me seriously, for once?" Harry sighed heavily, his gaze brimming with deeply felt betrayal. "Is it too much to ask?" Dumbledore looked silently at him, assessing; and that brought the Gryffindor's anger back full force, now, when the tea cup was out of danger to be accidentally broken.

"It's my life at stake!" Harry glared sharply when the old man finally found words to say and opened his mouth, though Harry was faster. "I haven't forgotten your stupid prophecy! I won't run away! Where should I ran to? Huh?" Harry raised his chin questioningly before making his point. "But it is my life! And I really don't like you playing with it as if it's something you own! It's mine!" Harry rounded on the headmaster in all his fiery Gryffindor glory, not even realizing the mark's bond – pain overrode it expertly.

Harry's attention was evenly divided to keep his mind and mouth with the discussion, and his magic holding Tom; though, the latter was not as hard to achieve as it had been before. Although, it hurt like hell. Either Tom did not try to break out to his full power, or Harry had gotten a better control about the bit of magic he had left to his convenience than he had previously thought. The castle's interference had left him enough magic to do what was necessary (for now), but not enough to get distracted and loose control.

However, maybe it had been enough that Harry had almost waited for Tom to come forward. To be prepared and wait for something to happen was a whole lot different than being trampled down in surprise. Despite his headache, Harry did not feel half as bad as he had in Diagon Alley. The pain was manageable – just so; and he had more important things to handle. Perhaps, this was another reason why he could hold his barriers much more easily than the day before Harry mused when he gathered his breath for the next round; ignoring the pain that rippled through his body, he kept his magic prepared to drop it on Tom like a hammer should it become necessary. Now, he let a hammer drop on the old man.

"I thought you had seen what happened when I have to do things on my own. I thought now you would tell me what was going on." Harry paced in front of the desk with open fury, three steps in one direction and three steps back, all the while muttering to himself. "It's not even as if I don't know what's going on." Harry stopped abruptly right in front of the headmaster, staring into the dimly twinkling eyes with as much hurt and guilt and accusation as he could manage. "If I had known that the vision is important I would have told you. I would have told you right after… last year that Voldemort meant to renew the… the acquaintance to some of his old… friends." Harry grimaced painfully and started pacing, again.

"You never tell me anything of what is important. I thought you knew. I really thought you did." Out of the corner of his eye Harry saw Snape's eyes widening; and Dumbledore sat a bit straighter against the high back-rest of his chair. "I thought the Order must know already that Voldemort had planned to lie low for some time, that he wanted to undermine the Ministry from within before the panic in the Wizarding world could grow to new heights and he would start his… war. I thought you all knew already. How was I to know that you didn't?"

"What did you say, Potter!" The bond flared up with utmost fury. It was the Potions Master, totally aghast by what the boy had just revealed in a moment of… anger, who interrupted his constant muttering. Open mouthed the boy stopped amidst what seemed a total loss of control – not of his magic but his mouth; though, Harry was cautious not to get into arm's reach of the Potions Master as the man processed his words.

"Didn't you listen, Professor?" Harry spat the title. He did not bother to hide his feelings. His tone of voice was not nearly as nice as people outside of this office were used to. It had nothing to do with being Gryffindor, but everything with being unable to suppress every emotion he felt. Now, since the moment he had concentrated on Snape the bond was back and Harry could not make it go away again. There was nothing Harry could do about his own reaction to the white, hot burning rage that surged through his mind from two sources at once – Snape and Tom; and everything aimed at him. Harry had never been so near to loose control of… everything at once. Each of them alone Harry could manage alright, but against both at the same time he had to struggle to keep his control. However, under such circumstances it was not hard to be an emotionally unbalanced teenager. Harry tried to see something positive in all what was happening, but somehow it did not quite work.

The stupid castle took most of his powers away but left him to deal with Tom. As if Snape and Dumbledore were not enough to keep him busy. Harry's eyes narrowed with concentration. Keeping his own anger separated from Snape's fury and Tom's rage was what took the most of his energy; all the while his head hurt as if it did not know tomorrow. His field of vision seemed to shrink with every breath he took and the blood roared deafening in his ears, right along with this pulsing bond he could not prevent from sending more and more emotions, now, when Snape did not seem to think of him anymore but of the information and what it meant for the cause. Apprehension was there and unbelief, and something that felt like tightly suppressed astonishment tinged with… knowing respect, though for what Harry could not tell. He was certain, though, the man could mess up everything. Harry glared at the Potions Master full force. He could not let himself be distracted by things that could be.

"I'll gladly repeat everything." Harry bit out with a sneer. "Voldemort had planned to use those wizards. He needs them… and I thought you knew." The bond felt like a hole in his head, and the glare he so defiantly met was like frozen fire. Harry jerked around when Dumbledore cleared his throat.

"And how do you know this, Harry?" Dumbledore's eyes seemed glued to him, his voice suspiciously bare of emotion. The lemon drop was long since bitten into pieces, again.

"From the Department of Mysteries." Harry said, his anger blown away, whispering the last words because it was too painful to say them out loud. Harry kept himself occupied with a loose thread of his robe's sleeve while the men progressed what he had implied. "When… when Voldemort…" Harry took a deep breath and rushed on. "When Voldemort possessed me in the Department of Mysteries…" Harry's voice broke off and he shook his head as if trying to scare off whatever thought had been rolling through his mind.

"I won't sit around all day and tell you of torture sessions and meetings and… these other things I saw in his stupid head when he possessed me. Even now half of the Wizarding world believes I'm on the mad side." His eyes brimming with suppressed emotions, Harry kept on shaking his head forcefully. "If I had known what was relevant I would have told – even last year – what matters, believe me, sir, but I'm not that fond of remembering what goes on in Voldemort's head to go through it again and again for the only sake of doing it. I can't, sir!" Harry sighed, a slight tremor in his voice. "I know you think it might be important, but most of it was just… bloody, sir, really bloody." Harry did not give Dumbledore a choice to voice his own thoughts.

"Whatever you say, these are my memories. I won't have anyone looking into them, and I don't like Pensieves." At that Harry looked directly at his Potions Master, who growled deep in his throat and balled his fists – the first visible sign that the conceited git was feeling anything at all. "I will keep those memories were they are until they're needed." Harry tried to look believable. "I swear I'll tell you whatever is necessary when it's relevant to… to the cause."

It remained unspoken that Dumbledore himself would need to keep Harry informed of everything, otherwise the boy would barely be able to decide that his information might indeed be relevant, and even then Harry could simply say that it was not, and Dumbledore could not say otherwise if he did not want to call Harry Potter a liar to his face. Information for information, that was the game they would play this year, not everything for nothing, not anymore.

Now they were aware that Harry had more information than he had ever told them. They knew that he did not trust either of them or he would have revealed something like that much sooner – and not when he simply lashed out at the peak of his anger. They would think it a step back in their fight against the Dark Lord – to loose the trust of their prophesized saviour was indeed something to worry; but it was right that they should come to Harry Potter, not the other way around. At least, they would start questioning themselves what else he had gotten out of Voldemort's mind when the snake face had possessed him – or what Voldemort had gotten out of Harry's; and it would cover any minor slips that could possibly occur in the future. For the rest, Harry would simply have to make sure that he did not mess up with something major.

Both men seemed occupied to think about the revelation Harry had made. No one was willing to break the silence that had descended upon them so suddenly.

"I'm truly sorry, Harry, that you think I failed you so." Dumbledore nodded sadly and watched the Gryffindor seriously. " It was never my intention to make you doubt my trust in you. I didn't want you to loose hope and the last time for you to be a child. I tried to do what I thought was the best for you." The old man spoke slowly in a bearing voice, as if to make sure that Harry would understand what he said, with the boy bathed in his stirred up emotions.

"My trust in you is implicit, Harry, though I'm not always able to show it the way you hope." It was obvious that the man waited for Harry to react, but the Gryffindor did not say anything. He just stared right back, defiance glinting in his eyes. Dumbledore sighed.

"You are aware that the war is to become fiercer. The opposing forces are gathering even now as we talk and take shape stronger than they did since years. The fate of the whole world will be determined in the following months and perhaps years. That you're to stand in the midst of the battle to bring the peace our people crave is neither your nor my choice, but it's prophesised that you have to be there and I'll see you there, Harry, by all means possible." The twinkle was like a blade as hard as a diamond, and deadly. "But I do trust you to want the best for our world and to do so with all your abilities. Never doubt my faith in you, Harry."

"Yes, sir. Thank you." Swallowing, Harry nodded faintly. He had his doubts and 'by all means possible' did not sound good in his ears. It was nice should he finally have the trust he had always wanted and needed. The only drawback was that Harry had no way to determine that this supposed faith was genuinely given and not just an attempt to lure him into feeling safe. It could very well be a trap. Did they play him out against… what? The old man would not get his trust back so easily, if at all. It was time to get some answers, even if Harry knew most of them already – and did not trust his headmaster to say what he really needed to hear. Was there a better time to test this apparent and implicit faith?

"Sir, I've some questions." Frowning cautiously, Harry gazed up to the old man.

"Ask away, Harry." The man twinkled and sucked on one of his countless lemon drops. "I'm certain we can light the dark hall of yours."

"Er… well, sir." Harry shifted uncomfortably, unsure where he should start. "I've heard students talk about some… weird things happening with their magic during the summer." Harry tilted his head doubtfully. "Can you tell me what that was?" He sounded uncertain if he should believe the headmaster's words and needed to tentatively test the trust he was supposedly getting.

"I believe you mean this magical outburst." Dumbledore said after a moment's consideration and a furtive nod towards his Potions Master. "It was a truly incredible thing, as such occurrences happen rarely and only with a lot of magical power to feed them. I believe," Dumbledore twinkled, "that the _Daily Prophet_ had a whole paper full of… interesting possibilities why and how something like that could happen out of the blue. Every witch and wizard near enough felt it, after all."

"I didn't feel anything." Dumbledore gazed at him assessingly but did not say the obvious 'It happened while you were missing'.

"By the way, sir, what is a… magical outburst? I have never heard something like that mentioned before." Harry met the gaze questioningly, though he did not hide the lingering lack of trust.

"This question is easy to answer, Harry." The old man sent another furtive glance towards his Potions Master; and this time Harry turned far enough to see out of the corner of his eye the raised eyebrow the headmaster received in response. The bond gave not much information at all. Hate was there and apprehension. Harry frowned; not apprehension but rather extreme displeasure; though, Snape did not question whatever Dumbledore asked of him – at least not in front of a student, and never in front of a Potter. Harry turned his attention back toward the headmaster.

"A magical outburst is just what the name implies." Harry rolled his eyes. "It's an eruption of magic that happens when too much power is freed in too short a time. It happens mostly due to ambitious wizards' interference in the natural energy balance, but it can also happen when too much magic gathers itself in places that are especially receptive to magic." Dumbledore smiled grandfatherly when he saw Harry's confused gaze. "It's quite simple, Harry. Take Diagon Alley for example. It's a truly magical place. Every shop is filled with magic, every person walking through the streets is filled with magic. Let's assume all wizards and witches of the world would apparate there at the same time – never mention that they wouldn't fit in there – it would overload the place with too much energy and the magic would… explode quite similar to the one that sent its waves over the land during this summer."

"Then it wasn't the same?" This was really new information for Harry.

"As I said, Harry, most of those outbursts happen when a wizard interferes where he should not."

"Oh. You mean… Voldemort?" Harry frowned wide eyed. "But how did he do something like that?" Gryffindors were naturally curious. He had to be questioning, innocent, when he talked about the very thing they were most interested in – and it was safely away from that vision he never had or from the happenings in the Department of Mysteries. They did not need to suspect that he had to hide even more than they thought he did already.

"We don't know yet, Harry." He looked down hard on Harry as if to decide what to tell him. "It might well be that Voldemort carried out a ritual, certainly one of the darkest. It very well might have been only the backlash we felt when whatever he awoke was called into existence."

Harry looked doubtful. "So there is a… monster of some sort walking around now?" He could feel the sneer Snape pierced his back with. What he got through the mark seemed to indicate that Snape could barely prevent himself from commenting his naïve stupidity. Thank Merlin for grandfatherly headmasters. Harry blinked questioningly.

"Not necessarily a monster, Harry." Dumbledore only smiled indulgently. "Sometimes it's enough to change one thing into something else." Harry wondered what was to come now. Tom had quieted down and the pain in his head retreated to something more bearable. He could finally concentrate on what Dumbledore was trying to say.

"Last year, I think we agreed to… avoid secrets." The old man looked at Harry, waiting for a reaction and Harry smiled proudly and nodded with eagerness. The truth sounded good, but Harry knew that Dumbledore could tell people that the sky was really green with purple stripes – and everyone would believe it was the truth. There was no way to tell what that deceiving mad hat was coming forth with. With an extra twinkle for his spy and professor the headmaster winked the Potions Master forward.

For a moment it seemed as if Snape would rather stay in his corner, watching the conversation but not being part of it. Then he almost seemed to pull a face and Harry got a feeling of resentment and… amusement. Harry frowned. What could possibly be amusing?

Blinking, Harry watched when the man pulled back the robe and rolled up his sleeve to reveal the Dark Mark, which Harry had known to be there. He did not need to fake his astonishment, though. Dimly, he was aware that Snape did not like being openly stared at much more than Harry did, though Harry could not stop staring. Upon that pale, gaunt looking arm the Dark Mark seemed exceptionally ugly; though it was not the Dark Mark anymore. Harry glanced toward the headmaster, who wore a seldom seen expression of seriousness and… uncertainty as he too stared with narrowed eyes down at a dim, violet lightning bolt piercing a skull. Harry had never reckoned that the mark would change its appearance on every single Death Eater. He did not know what it meant.

"That…! It…! Has it…?" His loss of words was obvious. The emotion he caught through the mark held an ounce of satisfaction. It felt as if Snape had just got an affirmation of something. Bastard. Harry narrowed his eyes.

"It's changed!" He exclaimed finally when no one seemed to want to say anything; but his voice seemed unduly loud.

"How did this happen?" Harry asked in a more moderate tone. He really did want to know. Glancing up at Snape's face, Harry could as well have looked at a piece of stone. He did get back nothing at all through the bond. It might as well have been not there.

Harry watched the mark with mixed feelings. Snape must have screamed his throat raw the moment it started to change. Harry certainly had screamed himself raw, though he could not say when he had gotten that stupid tattoo. For hours his whole body had burned excruciatingly. There had been nothing that did not hurt, nothing else but pain. The mark he had only noticed when he was back at the Dursleys, long after Snape must have felt his arm being sliced into pieces.

Swallowing, Harry stopped that train of thought. Randomly, Tom was still testing the barrier for weak points; and it would do no good to remind him of what had happened that day of the ritual. There was no use to make him react even more violently.Harry did not need that, not when he was in the same room as Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts and leader of the Phoenix's Order, and the git.

"We really don't know that, Harry." Dumbledore said after a moment and motioned for Snape to cover his arm. "We know that it happened at the same time as the outburst, so it's very likely that both things are related to each other." Here his gaze grew more piercing when he watched Harry sitting back again; and Harry waited patiently for the other shoe to drop.

"All of it happened when you were missing from Privet Drive." There was the other shoe! Certainly, when that explosion and Snape's mark were linked, his disappearance was too.

Not a breath later Harry tensed reflexively, though he tried hard to keep his body relaxed and his eyes from narrowing accusingly. Just when Dumbledore said the last word Harry felt someone slipping into his mind right where he had left the small opening for one, who thought him unaware and easy to legilimize.


	31. Chapter 30 : Forging Memories

**Title:** Harry Potter and the Summer's Secret

_**Author:** Japhu_

_**Pairing:** HPSS_

_**Rating:** R_

_**Disclaimer:** I own nothing of Harry Potter and his world and don't make any money with it._

_**Summary:** For one week in summer Harry disappears without trace. When he comes back he claims to have no memory. But something happened and it changed him. It remains to be seen if for the better or the worse. (will be HPSS)_

_**Category:** action/adventure/angst_

_**Feedback: **highly appreciated_

* * *

**Chapter 30 – Forging Memories**

Whoever was attempting to break into Harry's mind was, this time, somewhat more cautious in comparison to Snape, who had run over nonexisting, mental walls like a rampaging herd of Hippogriffs. Nevertheless, it clearly showed Harry that the clumsily, sneaking fool was in no way concerned to get caught. He would have felt insulted that the bastard thought Harry Potter so absolutely blind to this invasion would it not right fit into his plans.

Even after long hours thinking about his different options Harry really could come up with only two possible ways to act. He could either let him know what he was capable of, throwing the idiot out right now, or he took part in the game – convincingly – and managed to make him believe that Harry was just as clueless as everyone else.

Naturally, Harry would have preferred to give nothing away at all. He would have liked to show what exactly he thought of this constant meddling, too. Firstly though, Harry overcame his sudden instinct to throw whoever was spying on him unceremoniously out of his mind only a second after the thought crystallized. Secondly, it was far too early in the year to let anyone know anything more than Harry had already revealed; if the Gryffindor had his way Dumbledore would stay unaware of Harry's Occlumency abilities for a long time to come. Harry could in no way let on that he had caught up on the old coot's scheming; and although Dumbledore managed to look suspiciously inconspicuous it did in no way delude Harry of what was going on. Harry had merely hoped that after all this talk about trust he would get around this part of their conversation. Shoving his disappointment far away into the dark back of his head, Harry assessed the difficulty he was meeting now.

The problem with forged memories was quite obvious. Whenever Harry talked about something he automatically thought about it at the same time – or at least he should think about the same thing. Dumbledore was – in his own words – a master in Legilimency. He would be cautious not to delve too deep, lest Harry became aware of his presence. The old man would stay right at the surface where he had entered Harry's mind and where the more eligible memories would come forward on its own the moment he directed their conversation to the point where Harry would talk about this missing week. It meant, should Harry raise his shields completely and play his forged memories without keeping track of the real conversation, Dumbledore would soon find something wrong when Harry suddenly thought about roasting bacon for the Dursleys while he talked animatedly about a possible kidnapping by Voldemort. It would not go over well; but Harry must not think about this summer – not about this one crucial week. He had to bring his words into line with his thoughts and memories.

Harry had taken his time to make some preparations for just this one occurrence. In apparently random glimpses into his mind Harry would have to dig out some true or at least partly true memories of the recent summer. He could not have prepared the memories beforehand as he did neither know the topics Dumbledore would address, nor did he know the way in which he would do so. Harry would be hard pressed to concentrate to keep his memories – real and forged ones – from overlapping. He had no problems to keep someone out of his mind or to lie the blue out of the sky, but to lead someone around and make him believe that the sky was green while he actually saw that it was blue was a bit more stressful, especially if that someone must not become aware that he was led around.

The outer layers of Harry's mind had been arranged like a maze with only one way for an uninitiated, intruding presence to follow. Whoever got lost here would find neither beginning nor end if Harry did not want them to leave the trap he had so meticulously built. The beginning of his one way maze, where every turn led onto the same path, held easy stuff and built up gradually to the more heavy. That was necessary to make the Legilimens think he actually managed the feat to dig through Harry's memory on his own. The best thing was that an intruder would never become aware of this deception when Harry did not outright tell them. It gave Harry the necessary confidence to stay quietly in his seat and to play the old fool's game, because he knew that he was quite capable to trap anyone in his mind forever – maybe he could put Dumbledore together with Tom. Perhaps this would bring the stupid snake face to quieten down, so that Harry could concentrate on Dumbledore's newest attempt of manipulation.

Harry's lips twitched barely visible. It would be great to see the codger's face when the old manipulator found himself manipulated into confinement with the former Dark Lord. He had certainly lots of history with little Tom that needed to be cleared up. Of course, for Harry it would be even more taxing to keep his barrier up when another magical presence took residence within his mind; but perhaps Tom appreciated the company. Had it been anyone's head but his own Harry would say to go with it and to try out how it worked, but so he sobered up quickly. For this part of the conversation he had to keep his thoughts from drifting for whatever reason as everything else could very easily fire back at him; so Harry looked quite seriously towards the headmaster, waiting for the old man to open the next round of their match.

"What happened during this summer is the last thing we still need to speak about, Harry." The old man twinkled above his spectacles as he watched Harry rubbing his face with both hands. "Although, if you are not feeling up to it we can stop for now and meet again tomorrow, after you have had some hours of rest. What do you say?"

"I don't think tomorrow will find me in a better mood to come up here." Harry reserved a fleeting glance for Snape. "Or that someone else finds me in the right mood to follow after I found myself guided here today so very nicely." Harry sighed and watched Snape stepping gingerly back into the deserted corner, his left arm clutched tightly as if he could prevent Harry from knowing what he hid under his robe's sleeve.

"Just go on, sir." Harry ignored the Potions Master along with the suspiciously quiet bond and leaned back to give the headmaster his full attention. He felt the exhaustion creeping up in his bones.

"Very well, Harry." Dumbledore nodded, his gaze once again meeting Snape's before he pierced Harry with his mad twinkle. "Ms.Granger and Mr.Weasley mentioned to you what went on during the summer, I assume?" The gaze that met his eyes told Harry that he better had to agree with him.

"Er… yes, sir." Harry looked doubtful, his haggard expression did not change. "Hermione said you believe I… vanished from Privet Drive."

"You don't believe it, Harry?" Harry frowned distractedly, mutely shaking his head.

"I don't remember much, sir." Frowning, Harry thought about the time Dumbledore talked about. He remembered Vernon locking him into his room. Harry had done his homework during the day long imprisonment before he had been left out do prepare dinner for relatives who thought themselves starving. He could simply not remember an encounter with Death Eaters or Voldemort himself. Nothing strange had happened; and, of course, the Gryffindor was completely unaware of those barely noticeable moments of grey nothingness that played out between his summer memories of the Dursleys, left for overly eager watchers to make whatever they wanted out of it to draw their own – hopefully wrong – conclusions. Harry grimaced when he found himself at the receiving end of two adamant gazes and sighed mutely as if caught in a lie.

"Well, honestly, sir, I don't remember anything of Death Eaters." Managing to look as if that too was his fault was not easy, because Harry was foremost occupied to project the right memories and to keep in mind what he told them. He would probably need to take notes as soon as he could to remember all of his lies and half-truths. Certainly, Harry would need to recount his story more than once as the year went on.

"Sir?" Harry had only showed some things of what an oblivious Gryffindor thought had occurred during the time in question. It should be enough to point out that Harry was still very much in the dark about everything that happened during the summer; it should make sure to get across that he did not like that fact. Hopefully, Dumbledore could rest more easily with this knowledge. The old coot would certainly feel better as long as he could keep telling himself that Harry was not nearly as independent as he wanted to be; that the boy still needed his knowledge and wisdom to get through his life. Harry had no difficulty to let the headmaster think that he held the trump card very safely hidden in his meddling, gnarled hands.

"Just go on, Harry." Dumbledore twinkled merrily. Putting a suffering expression on his face, Harry blinked, guilt and insecurity reflected in his eyes. Only then he got back to what he wanted to say with a heavy sigh.

"Until Hermione told me that everyone had been searching for me," Harry explained and shifted in his seat, "I thought I had been with the Dursleys for the whole time." He shrugged noncommittally. "I mean, I was surprised when Professor Lupin and Moody showed up. I didn't know they thought I had been gone – I mean, that I was gone – for a whole week. I was angry with them for showing up only for a security check when it was my birthday."

"What do you believe happened?" Finally, the old man remembered the pouch with lemon drops and took another one, watched it thoughtfully and popped it into his mouth after a moment of silent admiration.

"Nothing." Shrugging, the boy glanced hesitatingly at his cup. He would have liked to take it back. He gazed up determinedly. "Should not I be the first one to know where I was? I tell you, sir, I was at Privet Drive for the whole time. I don't know why you think I wasn't. Why should I lie to you about something like that? Can't the wards show you that I never went past them? I couldn't be gone without them knowing, could I?"

"No, Harry, you're right. You couldn't have passed them without them realizing it." The twinkle in eyes seemed to darken. "Harry, they did sound an alarm when you left the premises they were set up to protect."

"But…" Harry shook his head, disbelief written all over his face. "I didn't! I really didn't leave the Dursleys! You told me how important it was that I stayed with them." At a loss of anything else to say Harry shook his head. His hands trembled slightly when he clasped them together and tried to gather enough spit to moisten his throat. "I can't tell you differently."

Although, what Harry could tell him – of course he would not do so voluntarily – was that he had left the wards on his own. Even before he had somehow gotten all of that new magic from Voldemort or wherever else, Harry had somehow known what to do, though it had been a bit more messy and painful than when he had called the wards upon himself. He had felt similar as to the time when he made a balloon out of his stupid, bickering aunt. Harry had not known what he had done; and there had been no choice for him but to let the wards snap back when he was safely away. It had not destroyed the wards, but it shook their pattern tremendously. However, Harry was not so crazy that he had planned to land himself with Voldemort. Harry shook those thoughts away. It could be fatal to think of something like that when he sat in front of the headmaster under tight scrutiny.

"Is something the matter, Harry?" Dumbledore looked down the crooked nose of his in that irritatingly patronizing way, thinking everyone just had to tell him their deepest secret, because he was such a nice, understanding, grandfatherly type of an old and wise one.

Harry pulled up the corners of his mouth, not caring if this one came across wrong – it was supposed to. Then he blinked and smiled when the stupid expression on the old coot's face changed to something more bearable, though Harry could not say what he thought.

"No, sir." Frowning, the Gryffindor shook his head. "Just thinking." Harry should be able to feel something of what was going on in that grizzled head of his. During his practice with Vernon it had certainly worked. Why not with Dumbledore?

"And about what, if I may ask, Harry?" Harry gazed thoughtfully at the old man. If Dumbledore was invading his mind, Harry should get some feedback, even if it was only a tingle of his magic that let him know their energy was mingling at some point. Harry's eyes narrowed as he met the innocent ones of the headmaster and his back straightened. Just who the hell was invading his mind? Harry would have liked to see the old man's lap dog to reassure him that his doubts were unfounded. Harry could not feel anything through the mark's bond; it felt as if Snape consciously kept his emotions at bay, as if he knew that Harry could read them in some way.

"I'm just… not sure anymore, sir." Harry suppressed a sneer. As if Dumbledore would stop asking when Harry did not want him to. He sighed and turned his attention towards his lap to gather his thoughts. Everything rested on the fact that Dumbledore was the one who to observe his memories. Harry did not know what conclusions Snape would draw. It was a gamble he did not like to take. However, Harry could not change the way he had started. He could only hope that Snape told whatever he found without mentioning his suspicions.

Firstly though, Harry needed to test his theory. Sending his senses to where the bond should be, Harry concentrated and found the point where it bound him together with Snape and all the other Death Eaters. Harry could not differ between one and the other. It would be bad luck for Snape if all his colleagues saw this memory, but there was no other way to make sure who was watching.

"Do you think a Pensieve might help, headmaster?" Questioningly, Harry looked up. The moment he asked about the Pensieve, Harry took his concentration to the one memory he knew Snape did not like in the least; it would bring forward emotions the git could not possibly suppress.

"No, I don't believe it would, Harry. A Pensieve can only show existing memories, not memories that should exist." Dumbledore seemed for once truly sorry, but that might be because he had to pass over a chance to take an unveiled peek into Harry's memories.

"I understand, sir." Harry smiled, though his eyes narrowed even more. Did he think him stupid? The bond was back with fury, but the first emotion was gone as fast as it had appeared; he would have missed it had he not been waiting for something. There was curiosity, puzzlement and disbelieve instead of hate. It was not what Harry wanted; and at the same time the greasy git kept digging for more information within Harry Potter's mind. At least, it showed that Snape could do Legilimency without ripping Harry's mind apart, though he still trampled around without any caution. Obviously, Snape did not think much of Harry's abilities to detect his… spying.

Harry was lucky that Tom had not caught on, yet. The guy was not known to keep his temper in check. He certainly would not react in any way positive; or he would try to make himself known to Snape if he still thought the man was spying for him and not for the other side.

"If what I've heard is true, then I would have been able to point you to Voldemort's hideout." It was really unfortunate that Harry had lost his memory. He did not glance away when Dumbledore scrutinized him a moment longer above his halfmoon shaped glasses before the old man smiled begninly, glancing fleetingly towards the Potions Master, who still stood silently observing right next to the door.

"It's all right, Harry. We know were his hideout is – was. The magical outburst we talked about earlier had its origin right were we assume Voldemort's main base had been."

"Had been? Then he's gone now?" Harry looked hopeful while inwardly he was fuming. It really was not the headmaster doing the dirty work, Harry realized and bit the inside of his cheeks until he drew blood. It was the Potions Master at his back, trying to enter his mind, who was getting mud on his hands. Did Dumbledore think Harry Potter totally gullible? Did he think that he could give Snape a slap on the hand when Harry took him to task and send the git to the dungeons as if Dumbledore had nothing to do with it? Why did not anyone ever ask? Why did they always try to look behind what was none of their business? Did not anyone trust him enough to take his word for what was? There had been a time when he would have told everything freely, though that time had passed now; and it was their fault.

"I don't believe he's gone, Harry." Dumbledore frowned at him in his grandfatherly manner. "Are you sure that you didn't have any more visions?"

"I am, sir." Harry nodded reflexively. "Not for a long time." He did not want to mention the Red Robes again, lest he was called forth to tell his story again and again to make certain he had not left out important details. It really could go wrong.

Biting his lips to keep himself from letting his anger out, Harry swallowed the lump in his throat and concentrated to stay with his outward appearance intact. It was stupid that he had not thought about the possibility before. Why had the manipulative bastard allowed his lap dog to stay when it clearly did not concern him, save the stupid mark on his left arm.

Harry's thoughts did somersaults as he was trying to come up with some memories he could use on Snape when his earlier question whether or not Tom had tried to break free with all of his strength was answered emphatically an with a burst of pain that made his eyes pop out of his head.

Why of all the possible times did this stupid, disgusting soul of a would-be immortal choose now to get in a panic? Harry could not let on – not now when he was nearly through with this idiotic conversation – that more than his memory was amiss. Stupid thing!

Harry was quite certain that Snape could not find Tom as long as he was rummaging around in his set up mind-maze; and there was no way that he could get out of it. The git tried to be discreet, but he moved around in a way that made obvious he did not truly see any reason for caution. The problem was now that Tom did not make the whole matter easier for Harry to keep track of Snape and any forged or real memories. The way Tom pressed forward was doubtlessly created to draw the attention of anyone only halfway adept in Legilimency.

Snape, his lips tightly pressed together, stood even more rigid than before. He held his arms crossed behind his back – his hands had to be clenched to fists to suppress a more visible reaction to how Tom's attack effected him. For once, Harry did not feel hate but pain that added very nicely to his own. He was glad to notice, though, that what Snape felt was not anywhere remotely close to what he had imagined it to be. But then, during the feast had happened more than just Tom, and in Diagon Alley Harry still had to deal with the out of control magic.

Harry swore. He should have kept his thoughts warded not only against anyone who forced their way in, but to those who tried to force their way out, too. The barrier was only good to hold an embodied soul, not a soul's thoughts or powerful bursts of core magic. It was not too far away that if Harry could catch some random thoughts of Tom, the snake face was able to do the same. Harry grit his teeth and concentrated to stay calm – on the outside.

Harry could not suppress a slight tremor, knowing – feeling through the mark – that Snape got a backlash, because the emotions were suddenly much more cautious, questioning and suspicious. A nearly overwhelming pang of cursed knives was evident. It was as if Snape was taking a deep breath to prevent himself from cringing when the pain surged through the bond – no real emotion – pain (not as bad as Harry felt, but bad enough; and no summons).

Blood pulsing in his veins, Harry grimaced with suppressed anger. His magic did not work when he thought about what he was doing (or wanted to do). It seemed a thing where the Gryffindor attitude of act first and think later seemed to be appropriate; and the magic that had been brimming with force since the moment the Gryffindor boy had felt Tom's presence for the first time during this talk, held in place with Harry's will only, was freed of its bounds and surged towards the oppressing wall of power that tried to run down Harry's magical defenses. But not now!

A small whimper made its way past Harry's tightly clenched teeth.

"Is everything all right, Harry?"

"Just… a headache, sir." Harry managed to say, acutely aware of the weighing glance; though he did not look up, sitting bend forward, head in his hands, his fists pressed against his closed eyes, and concentrated on deep and regular breaths.

"Severus?" Dumbledore's voice echoed the old man's doubts; and after a hesitating glare towards the boy, which Harry took no notice of, the Potions Master answered, thoughtfully keeping his words to the bare facts.

"The Dark Mark, headmaster." Snape's voice had an edge for the first words, but then it sounded only gruff. "However, it's not a summoning. I don't have the slightest doubt that the Dark Lord has to be alive, though."

"Harry? Is it your scar that hurts?"

"No, sir." Harry shook his head. "It tingles a bit, but I don't think it has something to do with my headache. That's a normal one, sir. I know the difference." Harry was barely believing that he had managed to keep his secrets. That stupid, arrogant lord had nearly messed up everything. A last time his magic lashed out mercilessly – that is to say it lashed inwards – so Tom knew what he had nearly cost him.

"So he's indeed alive." Dumbledore gazed searchingly at Harry, who still had his head bend down and his eyes closed.

Finally, Harry looked up and turned to meet the Potions Master's narrowed gaze with wide eyes and open mouth. For a moment, time seemed to stop before Snape sneered and Harry could breath again, knowing for sure now that Snape could not follow the bond to its origin… what a surprise that would be.

"Why would you think he wasn't?" The boy frowned.

"It was a question that came to mind as Voldemort has vanished without a trace and not even his most trusted Death Eaters know where he could be to this hour." The headmaster did not leave the boy out of his gaze, but all expression Harry showed was silent questions Dumbledore could not begin to answer.

"Oh." Was all that Harry had to say to that matter, before he rubbed his eyes and leaned back in an attempt to relax.

"What happens know? I mean when it's right what you said I've lost my… that I have lost my memories." Harry gazed at the old man as if reaching for his last line of safety. The old man actually looked worried. It was certainly an improvement from the meddling old fool. Harry led his head hang in apparent defeat, concentrating to keep track of everything he said to Dumbledore; concentrating on keeping Tom quiet; concentrating to lead Snape away from anything interesting. Harry felt the ache in his head explode behind his forehead.

"Can't you tell me what happened?" Harry needed to get out of here as soon as possible. He felt the walls closing in on him.

"As I don't know where you have been, I can't tell you anything, Harry, though do not worry, I'm sure your memory will come back, when you're ready." Dumbledore shook his head.

"Oh! You think?" Harry asked thoughtfully, an innocent expression on his face. He was sure that Dumbledore could at least make a good guess. He had indicated already where he thought Harry had been. Why could he not say so clearly for a stupid, slightly naïve Gryffindor boy to understand? The dull, thumbing pain made itself comfortable in his head. Merlin! Would they ever come to an end!

"If you really can't remember there is nothing I can do, Harry." He gazed at him thoughtfully. "You don't remember anything?"

"I told you already, sir!" Harry took a deep breath. It was time to speed up this conversation and clenched his fists, still desperately urging Tom back into the dark corner of his mind. "I can't remember what you want me to tell you. I told you! I don't know what more you want from me. I don't know anything. I didn't have anymore visions. Do you think I know where Voldemort is? That I'm suicidal and go running off to him, so he can kill me even faster than he would do otherwise? I don't know were he is! I don't know where I was during that week all of you are hushing about, either! I just don't know!" Harry's breath was gone and he deflated slightly, but only until he took another breath.

"I wouldn't even know the bit I do if Hermione had not told me in the train. Not even Lupin told me what was going on! All three of them just stood in my room mumbling that it was about nothing; then it was my birthday, and suddenly it was a security check!" As false as his anger truly was, to hold it up as long and under so much pressure was exhausting. Although, Harry had to stay afoot. He realized how easy it was to get carried away and to really tell what was going through his head.

"They were worried about you, Harry." The headmaster interrupted his flow of words. "And the way you spoke to them hurt them very much, especially Remus Lupin." He watched Harry as though the boy should drop to the ground with guilt. Heaven forbid Harry Potter hurt anyone, even if he only said the truth! Harry halfway raised his arm for a very tactless Muggle gesture, but his professors would not understand. You had to tell them what you wanted, otherwise they would leave you running in circles.

"Oh, stuff them! They could have told me what was going on! They didn't even bother to think of something convincing! As if I would believe everything!"

A snort at his back made Harry jerk around. He could not have prevented it even if he wanted to, but very well, if Snape thought he was left out of the conversation and needed to bring himself into it more tightly, Harry would help him with that.

Harry's eyes blazed in fury. It was hard to say whether his outburst was faked or not. Harry still knew what he did, though. He was well aware that the greasy bastard had not stopped fishing for information. Snape still had him under a mild form of Legilimency – strong enough to get glimpses into his mind if Harry did not know or pay attention to what he did – so that the bastard would possibly know when Harry lied, but that was not necessary, was it? There was enough shit under his shoe to safe a bit for Snape. Harry was just not certain if he wanted to enter the terrain a Gryffindor would rush into – to hell with the consequences. He would still have to live with that man in the future; and suddenly those 'only four' lessons did not sound as inconspicuous as before.

With a last breath, Harry took a harder grip around Tom, though it seemed as if the idiot had quieted down considerably. Probably he had finally caught on that Harry did not care for other people to know who was listening in.

Harry whirled around and came upon Snape like a storm. "I don't care if you have Dumbledore himself for a father or if your mother is drinking tea with Voldemort, but don't you dare to ever belittle, insult or humiliate me again for my beliefs and opinions, if you are the one swearing fealty to everyone who sticks a wand into your face." Harry's words were relatively harmless, apart from the fact that he nearly screamed them into his professor's face. It were the memories within the boy's mind that suddenly bombarded him which made the Potions Master pale – a real feat that was as he had looked like chalk to begin with – and out of the corner of his eye Harry could see Dumbledore frowning above his half moon shaped glasses, though not at him – at Snape. Harry had stepped into something new; he had not wanted to. Or had he?

Harry had the suspicion that his old headmaster – although, he might believe it – did not get often under Snape's skin. Harry managed it quite regularly. More than once during the conversation the git had nearly lost his calm exterior. Probably though, Harry managed it only because he was a Potter. Snape had never been able to keep his calm when one just mentioned his father's name. It was certainly a weakness Harry needed to explore, though it was Harry's weakness to; but recognizing and accepting it as a weakness was the first step to overcome it. He was one step further than Snape. Without paying any more attention to Snape, Harry turned back to his headmaster.

"If you do nothing else – believe me, sir." Harry's eyes narrowed in anticipation. He wanted this farce to end. Jerking back to the git when he glimpsed him opening his mouth, though his gaze was still directed at the old man, Harry's eyes mirrored the hate perfectly.

"Whatever else you have to say, Snape, I won't listen." Harry bit out and to make obvious that he did not intend to acknowledge his professor's mere existence furthermore he added in an afterthought a sharp: "Headmaster!"

It took a moment for Dumbledore to gather his thoughts. Then the old man sighed as though his burden had gotten bigger. Harry's eyes narrowed. How dared he to make him feel guilty again? He wanted to get out. Fighting on three fronts at the same time was too much, even for Harry Potter.

"I understand, that you are angry, Harry."

"No." His eyes still displaying heated emotions, Harry spoke with more calm, although still forcefully, and leaned back in that too soft chair. "With all respect, sir, you don't have a glimmer of understanding, or you wouldn't do what you did - and what you are obviously still doing." And to not make Dumbledore think he knew that he had Snape legilimize him, Harry furthered: "I don't like it when people make me talk when I don't want to, sir!" He took the liberty to spit the 'sir' out with a hate only Voldemort had encountered before; and it was as if he had hit the old man in his face. Ha! It had an even better effect than calling him 'coot' where he could listen. Emotion was what got to Dumbledore – heartfelt, pure emotion. It was only for an instant as they silently assessed each other before Dumbledore smiled pleasantly and held out his stupid pouch of sweets.

"A lemon drop, Harry?" If that was Dumbledore's way to apologize, Harry did not care much. The bastard deserved a good hit for what he was doing. Harry did not dare to look back at Snape. He did not want to give himself away in the last moment.

The headmaster did not know it yet, but right this moment he had truly lost the last ounce of… anything, Harry Potter had still felt somewhere deep down; what a secretly lonely boy had allowed himself to feel, despite knowing better.

When Albus Dumbledore wanted to have it his way, he would get it his way. Harry set his jaw. All was fine with him. Let the old codger do what he wanted, Harry would do what he needed to. Silently, Harry cursed Tom for making everything harder than it had to be. Stupid! All of them were stupid to think that Harry Potter would not wake up one day.

The storm that raged outside seemed to have lessened in power. Without a moment to linger or thinking if what he was about to do was clever – it certainly was very fitting for a Gryffindor – Harry stormed out of the office, leaving Snape and Dumbledore in his wake; and it was only the magic around the place that prevented the door from being thrown close forcefully. He stumbled down the stairway and hurried out of the corridor as fast as he could.

Nearly running, Harry did not slow down until he reached the entrance hall. Then he bend down, his hands on his knees, and drew a deep and trembling breath. Round one of their game was over; points… maybe one for either or neither of them. Merlin, was he glad that he had come out of that office more or less unscathed.

Still breathing consciously, Harry pulled both hands through his hair. He straightened his crumbled robe and took a good look at the clock. It was already well past lunch. Everyone was off to classes again, even Neville would be now. Forcefully avoiding to think about the last hours, Harry closed his eyes an instant longer than it was necessary to blink and made his way up to the Gryffindor tower. He felt numb, unable to ascertain what he had said or should have said – or better not. In a short time everything would rush down on him.

His legs trembled when the tension slowly began to leave his body. Only stumbling he made his way through the castle. Harry would cut whatever lessons he had today. It was impossible that he could sit through them without giving away that something was wrong. Harry shuddered. He had been calm as long as he was in that damnable office, but now his reserves were used up. He was starting to think in circles. There was nothing he could do. He had laid out his cards – some of them; now he needed to wait until the others revealed what they held. It was not a calming thought, but it was what would need to happen next. He just hoped he had not given too much away – or too little.

Harry pulled himself up the stairs with the help of the banister. The way to the Gryffindor tower seemed unimaginable long. There was too much time to dwell on what he had done, too much time to doubt himself, to doubt what he had ever thought he could pull off. Swallowing the bile rising in his throat, Harry muttered the password barely loud enough to be heard, ignoring the still angry chatter of the woman in the portrait and made his way up to the dormitory to stop thinking. Harry knew that he had done the best he could. More importantly, Harry did not think that one of the men had gotten an idea of what he was hiding in his head.

The door of the dormitory closed when Harry leaned back against it. He drew a deep breath and sank down to the ground, trembling with tension and relief. What a mess he had gotten himself into! It was worse than ever before. How could he make it through the whole year with no one to back him up? He leaned back until his head met the wooden door with a dull thud. He was crazy to even try to get through with it. Harry closed his eyes when tears leaked out of them. It was the exhaustion catching up with him, all that adrenalin surging through his body, the relief to have it finally over and done with. Furiously, Harry rubbed his face. He would not cry, not ever. He was stronger than that. There was not enough time for him to stop on his path. He needed to go forward constantly.

The conversation was done; now he needed to start his research. He needed to find the ultimate way to kill Voldemort for real, with no possibility for him to sneak his way back. Remotely, Harry knew already what he needed – Voldemort himself had been the one to show him how it could be done. However, Harry had nothing but a vague idea of what should be the final outcome. He did not know what exactly he had to do, or how. It really was fortunate, if personally sad, that he was out of the Quidditch team. Harry would have to use all the time he could get to search for information about the ritual he had to undergo to free himself of Voldemort.

Still trembling, Harry pushed himself up, staggered weakly towards his bed, and simply fell down as soon as he was near enough to hit the mattress and not the ground. He would take a nap, and then he would go and visit Madam Pince. He could foresee that the woman would soon become his best and only friend. After all, she was the mistress of books and her kingdom was the place he planned to make his home in a short amount of time. Sighing, Harry closed his eyes. Now, if he could only forget the sacrifice that would be needed to even have a chance to complete the ritual.


	32. Chapter 31 : Personal Matters

**Title:** Harry Potter and the Summer's Secret

_**Author:** Japhu_

_**Beta Reader:** Nagi_

_**Pairing:** HPSS_

_**Rating:** R_

_**Disclaimer:** I own nothing of Harry Potter and his world and don't make any money with it._

_**Summary:** For one week in summer Harry disappears without trace. When he comes back he claims to have no memory. But something happened and it changed him. It remains to be seen if for the better or the worse. (will be HPSS)_

_**Category:** action/adventure/angst_

_**Feedback:** always highly appreciated_

* * *

**Chapter 31 – Personal Matters**

Every former headmaster's picture gazed at the door before some of them then turned to glance curiously at the men who watched the closed door in silent contemplation, the older one thoughtfully with a sad twinkle in his eyes, the younger one with an angry glint, his left eyebrow raised as if to emphasize how typically Gryffindor that loud-mouthed imbecile, who had just stormed out without an ounce of respect to his elders, was acting.

Potter an equal? Certainly not. A force to reckon with? It was possible. After the way the talk had gone, Severus could not say otherwise without lying to himself. There were things going on that did not add up. Some memories should not have been there. Even if what Potter had indicated about his possession at the Department of Mysteries was true, he should not know what he did. There was no way that this sort of information would come up within random thoughts going through the Dark Lord's mind. He let his left arm go. The pain was only a dully-lingering throb within overstressed nerves.

"Now, Severus, what do you think of our Harry Potter?" The pride in the old man's voice did not go unnoticed. "He has matured greatly, has he not?"

Severus gazed skeptically at the headmaster. Harry Potter matured? No. More arrogant? Yes. It seemed as if Potter thought himself worthy enough to play his own game in the adults' league. Ignorant, really, and, more importantly, dangerous after the way the mutt had ended last year, but still a force to reckon with.

"Severus?"

"It doesn't matter what I think; that brat's still a brat." He sneered.

"Is he, Severus?" Albus' eyes twinkled even more brightly. He did not think that Harry was as naïve as Severus thought him to be. He had a few suspicions that not only Harry's mind had grown but also his abilities as well. It would make sense. Despite what Harry had said, Albus was sure that the boy had been the center of whatever had happened during the summer.

Of course, Albus Dumbledore had not only Harry Potter to deal with. Now that the boy knew of the prophecy and the other party had made the first move to eventually reveal itself fully, the old headmaster had to look over many happenings that could go wrong and bring only darkness over the world as a whole.

"He'll be a formidable opponent for Voldemort when he leaves school. It seems that his godfather's death has finally made Harry grow up." Sadly, it made the boy's trust towards him nonexistent, too.

"Maybe so." Severus did not think that it was the mutt's death that led Potter to believe he could get through with whatever his Gryffindor mind could come up with. The man shrugged his shoulders noncommittally but could not refrain from adding, "If the imbecile gets this stupid temper under control. Otherwise the idiot boy will not see the light again after he steps into the Dark Lord's line of view."

"Ah, yes. That is the reason we are here, is it not, Severus?" Only when Severus turned towards him Albus' eyes twinkled merrily, all in good character. Albus conjured another cup of tea for Severus and waited until the younger man had made himself comfortable in the same chair Harry had occupied earlier.

"Is that why you wanted me to legilimize Potter?" Even if Severus tried to be polite, from his mouth the name always sounded like a curse. "Even though the boy is a lost case in occluding his mind, he's always been fast to feel me enter."

"Naturally, Severus. The boy has a strong will, but I trust you didn't use your usually more … aggressive method to gain access and have been a bit more guarded with your power? Did you do as I asked you to, Severus?"

"Naturally, Albus." The man parroted his mentor with a snarl. "I'm not this old because I'm careless in covering my tracks." He grimaced, but the probing gaze left him totally unimpressed. "Admittedly this time I was … clumsy enough for someone trained in Occlumency above the mere beginnings to notice my presence, but Potter did not even twitch when I entered his mind."

"Hm." Albus stirred his tea thoughtfully.

"So why did you do it?" He did not let himself be sidetracked.

"To answer a question that came up during the conversation." Dumbledore stared with furrowed brows to the door where the boy had vanished. He had done it to be certain of Harry Potter. He needed to know if he indeed had to reckon with the boy. His reaction had been most interesting if a bit peculiar.

"And?" Not one for staying around the dark clad man inquired impatiently, "Your answer?"

"Very much telling, my dear Severus." This time the twinkle in his eyes was back fulltime, though the Potions Master recognized a hard glint underlining it. "Very much so." For a moment they sat in silence, then the headmaster looked up questioningly. "So, do you believe Harry knows, or is he truly clueless? Tell me what you did find, Severus." Albus watched every reaction the younger man showed with caution. Severus Snape was one of the few Albus could not read very well, though Severus himself thought Albus to be an expert in that field.

Truth was that Severus had probably manipulated him as much as Albus had done to the Potions Master, but Albus was sure not to let Severus in on that knowledge. Nothing worked twice with him. Of course, he still seemed to talk Severus into some things more than once, but then it only happened when he saw an advantage for himself, and sometimes Albus found himself out-manoeuvred. With that man one had to keep every advantage possible. Albus had learnt a long time ago that whenever he thought he knew how his Potions Master's mind worked the man managed to surprise him once again.

The only thing certain of Severus Snape was his absolute hate for James Potter, his loathing of Voldemort, and everything that evolved around those two men; one man dead already, the other soon to be dead – hopefully. Everything else concerning Severus was questionable, but Severus was not the most successful spy on this side of the war for nothing, and it toned Albus' abilities when he tried to manipulate the master of manipulations.

Severus did not use his gift often, at least not in Albus' vicinity, but it explained somewhat how he managed to stay alive for all those years, though Severus denied vehemently to have done or known something special to gain back Voldemort's trust as easily as he had done.

"Of course, Albus." Severus took a moment to think. "As far as I could see, Potter doesn't remember, though he's not as sure to have been at Privet Drive as he wants to make us believe. He just remembers being pampered by the Muggles, though there are some things that don't fit, as if he had been obliviated at some point in the past, but it was not the foggy white one expects with victims of powerful memory spells. However, I could find no lingering traces of any memory spells, mind-changing potions or something equally useful. I've never seen something taking effect like this. Those symptoms are unknown to me. You'll see for yourself when you view the memory." As always Severus would put the memories of Potter in a Pensieve for the headmaster to watch, not to say that he would give him all memories. He never did, not of a Death Eater meeting or anything else he had information about.

"Did he outright lie at one point?"

"While I was legilimizing him?" He sneered. "No." Not outright. "His story of our encounter in Diagon Alley was pulled over by that mop of hair, though." Whatever Potter had thought to do, the idiot boy had not been hiding when the Red Robes discovered him. Potter was walking towards them as if going to a picnic.

"Of course, Severus. I'm sure you wouldn't run that fast." Albus gazed at him smiling and popped in another lemon drop at Severus' growl.

The content of Severus' own report concerning the happenings at Diagon Alley, which he had given right after getting back to the castle, did not so much differ from the story Potter had told with this stupid grin on his face as Severus could have wished. The boy had kept it to the bare facts just like he.

Severus had been there long enough to see the boy being hit by that powerful spell. It had to be by some sort of Imperius that Potter had decided to leave his badly chosen hiding place. Severus had seen the magic at work. It had been breathtaking and dangerous.

He could not tell Albus of it because he had never told the old man of his ability to see the magic in the moment of spell casting. It was always good to keep what was not explicitly necessary to himself in case of an emergency. Even back in summer, after he had watched this … gathering in the ruins of the Dark Lord's lair, Severus has said no more than that they stood in a circle, doing … something. It was worrisome in itself that his encounter then sounded suspiciously close to Potter's vision.

However, for all rights Potter should have said something about being hit by a spell, because he must have felt the control over his body slip at some point. So why did he not? There were other things, too. The apparently 'golden' robes and the attack of Voldemort that ended with both of them nearly breaking down in pain – the Potter boy with glowing eyes; admittedly the boy could not possibly know about the latter. Severus kept this one to himself for his own benefit. It could be of use later on, or it could become a disaster. Certainly it was an effect he had never seen before. Still, there were questions left, but none for the headmaster to answer. Severus watched the old man with his usual air of disinterest.

"What did YOU find within the boy's mind, Albus?"

"Nothing." Albus smiled as if that was exactly what he had thought to find.

"What?" The younger man's eyes widened.

"I found nothing at all," Albus repeated happily.

"But that's not possible!" Severus frowned, trying to get behind the ploy the great Albus Dumbledore was following now.

"I did not try to be obvious. I was … careful to legilimize him with the same amount of power I always used." Albus tilted his greyed head. "To be honest, I used a lot less just to be on the safe side." Silently, Albus contemplated how it was possible that his mind had always been pulled to the same point on his search for a weakness in the mental defense. It was the only breach in Harry Potter's mental shields he could find, the same spot where Severus had entered the boy's mind. Wherever he entered the boy's mind, he always ended up there and Albus did not go any further.

"Well then, obviously you should've used more magic," Severus said.

"Do you think I don't know the way my magic is working, Severus?" Albus shook his head in silent amusement. "I do believe I'm long not old enough to forget how much magic I need to legilimize an untrained mind."

Severus frowned darkly. "Isn't it more possible that he instinctively closed off? It happens often when emotions turn up and his certainly were high. At least it is far more likely than that he suddenly learnt to occlude his mind in a matter of weeks. More so, as you seem to think he led me around in some trap of his." Severus wanted to refuse to believe that Potter could be able of a tremendous feat like that. It just was impossible, even if he was the Boy-Who-Lived – what a stupid title, really. Furthermore, it would not go unnoticed if he did say otherwise when it was about Potter.

"I truly want to believe that Harry has accomplished Occlumency for his own good." Albus sighed heavily. "Maybe you are right. One time is no proof." The old man still looked as if he believed it to be true and Severus himself was thinking over what had happened. Were two times the proof that Potter had somehow learnt not only to occlude his mind but also to deceive and to play memories at will? He could not help but to be sceptical about what he had seen in Potter's mind. He remembered very well when he tried to legilimize the brat at the station.

During the arrival Potter's mind had been as closed off against Legilimency as that Muggle Crusoe had been from the mainland. Potter did not even detect Severus trying to read his mind. Because his shields were that strong he needed to consciously watch out for an attack – or to set some sort of mind wards (which the boy had obviously neglected to do) – to become aware of a cautious attacker. During the talk the boy had obviously expected to be legilimized and had lowered his shields appropriately, prepared to lead Dumbledore on. But was it even possible to play with memories and thoughts in a way like that? Before this day Severus would have said no; now he was not so certain anymore.

The emotions that triggered the memories had seemed true enough, the anger at Moody and especially Lupin (watching Potter's memory they truly had acted like fools), the confusion whenever the boy thought about being away from the Dursleys or when the old man asked him what happened (it always called forth this empty, grey void of nothing before the memories of the Dursleys came forward). All of it felt real, not like something built up to prevent an invading mind of going further.

The happiness when for a moment the boy thought the Dark Lord dead and an image of a smaller Potter sitting in a window that showed only for a second could not have been anything but real. The image had come with a feeling of utmost hope and freedom, and all of it went with the conversation. Made up memories did not hold the emotion that was linked with those that have been lived through for real. It would be possible to create something similar, but it would only be a parody of the real feeling.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he acknowledged that this was one of the very few positive memories he had gotten out of Potter's head. Of course, Severus tended to dig for the worst to unbalance the ignorant brat. But was Potter that ignorant? Severus would have to think about this conversation as soon as he was away from the old man's prying eyes. It did not feel as if Dumbledore had gotten what he wanted. Not really. It seemed as if Potter was a cleverer brat than he got credit for. Certainly, Severus needed to find out what Potter was trying to hide; he would need to watch the boy even more closely.

"I want you to watch the boy." Severus blinked at the headmaster's words. "Voldemort could very well possess him again." Then his eyes narrowed.

"Are you saying that you believe the mumble jumble Potter threw into our faces?" Severus doubted very much that Potter would have been able to keep something like that to himself.

"Harry truly seems to be oblivious. You said so yourself, but to answer your question, I do believe him. Most things I do believe to be true," Dumbledore said thoughtfully and with a crunching noise he bit the lemon drop he still sucked on into little pieces. "Harry never lied about important matters. His visions and everything concerning Voldemort was always true to his word, even if he did not like how I used his information. I do not think he would start now. I did not detect deceit in his words. He truly has knowledge of Voldemort's thoughts and maybe some of his memories."

"You must admit," Albus twinkled with apparent mirth, "that he has finally found a way to get included in our meetings if we ever hope to get any information out of him. I would say that doing so is far from naïve, wouldn't you?" Albus smiled as he realized Severus' eyes widening. "If he would lie then he would lie about his feelings, and Harry has not yet mastered his temper as well as I would like. Oh yes, Harry was very much truthful, though sadly not as innocent anymore, never mind the issue of where his trust lies." The old man clicked his tongue as if trying to savour the lemon flavour. "Still, I very much think I missed something important, and I don't like that feeling at all."

"What's with this scar issue?" Severus thought about the pain he had felt through the mark when Potter bored them with his stupid rambling. Pale, his cheeks flushed with an angry red, the boy had truly looked the worse for wear. There was no possibility that the angry Gryffindor had kept his control. There was no chance either that what Potter had felt had been nothing but a normal headache. Not when he had lain twitching on the ground in Diagon Alley only a day before, not when Severus' arm hurt so much that he thought it would better to just cut the offending limb off. And that stupid brat had the audacity to doubt his words.

"It could be that he caught a backlash of your pain as you were within his mind when your mark started burning."

"That's possible," Severus relented, "but unlikely."

"We will see, Severus, but for now I believe we have more things to worry about. With those Red Robes of yours," at this the Potions Master scowled darkly, "times will become even darker I fear. I want you to tell me what Harry is doing, what he is thinking. He won't trust me, but I need to know what goes on in his head."

"He'll hardly tell me." Severus could barely contain his sarcasm.

"I know, Severus." The old man twinkled. "That is why I want you to make him angry."

"You want what?"

"I cannot allow him to close himself off from the world."

"Do I understand you correctly, Albus? You want me to … insult the brat?"

"Don't play stupid, Severus." The headmaster admonished twinkling. "Of course you are not to insult Harry." The eyes glinted. "I want him to lose his calm. With your charming personality you manage it quite easily even when you've not set out to do so."

"To the best of my ability, Albus." Severus clenched his teeth. It just was not the same when the headmaster gave him his blessing instead of trying to get him to worship the brat like everyone else. It somehow took away the satisfaction he felt. He hated that wretched child and would have no problem coming up with scathing remarks. It still would not be the same. That stupid, manipulating bastard took away his only positive thing to look forward to. But then there was the thing with Potter himself. The boy had hinted at knowledge he could only have gotten from the Dark Lord himself. The possession explained it, but what was the boy playing at to let him know what he knew instead of informing the headmaster of everything? And what else did he know? Severus would surely watch the brat. He blinked. "Is that why you put him in Potions?"

"Just for a time, Severus. I need time to think. He surprised me."

"He did?"

"Harry has grown over the summer." Snape raised a brow questioningly and Albus sighed. "I hoped you listened, Severus. He has. In his mind he had grown tremendously. I am not certain I can reach him anymore." Harry would go his own way of that the headmaster was sure, and he still needed to try and steer the boy in the right direction. Albus watched when Severus finally took a cautious sip from his tea. There was something else that made him itch inwardly. Harry had said some more or less harmless things that indicated a deeper knowledge. Certainly, Severus had reacted really … emotionally – for him at least – when Harry had let loose his temper. Something had been said that had definitely alarmed him.

Promises of confidence, especially oaths, were no easy matter. It must have been from some of Voldemort's memories Harry had gotten in the department. Albus berated himself. If he just had not told the boy the prophecy. Not that it mattered for the long run. There were hundreds of ancient prophecies that waited to be fulfilled and with a bit of imagination dozens of them could fit the boy. If Albus had kept the prophecy to himself as he had originally planned Harry would probably still have trusted him enough to reveal whatever echoes the short time possession with Voldemort had left within his mind. Now it was too late. Albus leaned back with a sigh.

"Now tell me, Severus, what did Harry mean with his last … choicy words to you? I certainly would know if you were my son, and to my knowledge your mother is dead, isn't she?" The younger man nodded silently, his expression totally closed off. "So then, is there anyone else but Voldemort you are sworn to?"

"Actually yes, Albus." The Potions Master sneered, outwardly totally unimpressed, taking the glacial expression for the warning it was. For an instant Severus enjoyed the expectant expression of repressed surprise. "I'm sworn to you if I remember correctly; and that's one master more than a wizard ordinarily does have." The old man truly lost his bite when he thought that his almighty headmaster attitude would get somewhere with him. "Potter has an ill sense of humour; I'm sure you find it all amusing." Severus growled, though his expression stayed bare of emotion.

"Have you noticed, Severus, that Harry did not say much without meaning during the whole conversation?"

"Did he?" Severus raised his brow. "What interest is it to me what Potter said?" To him it looked like some ploy to get revenge, to get back at the old man for all the times he had led the boy on. The relation to Dumbledore was frosty even after months of not seeing each other or because of – more so than before when the emotion the boy had displayed was an indicator. He truly would have to take the boy to the side and have a nice talk with him, because whatever game he thought to play with the headmaster, Severus refused to be a part of it. And the old man could play on his own, too.

"If you don't need me any longer?" Severus took long strides towards the door. He needed to think things through and to make some decisions.

"Severus, stay a moment longer, please." The words were sharp and to the point. Silently, the younger man turned around at once and endured the recurrent scrutiny with a stony expression that gave away nothing all the while Albus stayed in his merry-old-man role, crunching one lemon drop after the other.

"What else is there about that boy you need me to know now instead of tomorrow?" He groaned, his dislike apparent. "I'm really not interested in any more stories about how formidable that brat's going to be. I'd rather brew the potion I prepared that morning."

"That is truly sad, Severus." Albus twinkled. "But you're lucky that Mr. Potter's … abilities are not the reason I asked you to stay a moment longer. I need your own abilities to look for one of my informants." His expression grew serious. "Find clues to what happened to him, really anything would help. If you need to send one of your own to further it, do it, but find him."

Intrigued Severus took a step back into the room. It had not happened before that Albus went to such expenses when one of his many spies vanished. Normally the old man went for the line that a life given for the greater good is a life not given uselessly. This though, seemed different.

"When did he disappear?"

"Over the summer. I had two that were closely involved in … something. One is now dead. The other is missing." Albus weighed up what he could reveal and what would give the man too much information for his brilliant mind to work with.

It was not Severus' trust he questioned (not really), but his ability to maintain the upper hand for the rest of his life. Even a man with Severus' abilities was to meet his better once in life. Severus Snape himself reminded Albus of the fact that his own successor was certain to come. It would not do to give his Potions Master more information than what was strictly necessary for him to accomplish his task.

"Any recognizable characteristics you can tell me?" Albus lips twitched. Severus did not ask for any features, but for those he could be told of. Severus knew the importance of spies and to keep their identity secret as long as somehow possible. As it was, Albus would have to tell him something.

"Yes. You're looking for an old man with a bad mouth and a somewhat sick sense of humour." Severus' brows rose in seldom-displayed surprise. Had it been anything else they were talking about, Albus' twinkle would have magnified.

"I'll let you know if there is someone who meets your description." Severus, all business, looked inwards for a moment. "Anything special I have to keep attention of?"

Neither of them gave away all information or ammunition in any case; both were wary of each other but their understanding was strong enough to get past the difficulty of two wizards whose minds worked much too alike for the other's peace of mind. However, up to a certain point that they had not yet reached, both men worked well together, though even they themselves did not explicitly know how to define their relationship to each other.

It was not the first person he had sent Severus after. It would not be the last either. The Potions Master knew what mattered. There had been incidents when a warning was appreciated, like the one time he sent Severus after someone who kept a pack of Cerberi at his command and called them his pets, or when he sent him after a young, but fully fledged vampire who rampaged throughout the country.

This time he could not give a warning. Should Severus find something he would have to keep his own. Albus could not risk alerting the wrong people of his search. But maybe he could make it a bit easier to find the right old man. It would be dangerous enough as it is. Albus sighed.

"I'll tell you our code of recognition for cases as this. You are to use it only if you are sure that he is the right one, understand?"

"Of course." The Potions Master's eyes narrowed.

"It's 'Dark Child'. You say nothing else but those two words. Dark Child. When his answer is 'Child Chosen' you have the right one. Bring him here into this office as fast as possible. When he says anything else you have the wrong one and he is of no interest to you." Albus rubbed his eyeglasses and looked warily up at him. "Should his answer be 'Lord of Lightning' then you take your magic and apparate out of there, or if that's not possible gather your breath and run instantly. Clear?"

Severus nodded. He could see a certain risk to use the keywords when he was anything but sure. "Dark Child. Child Chosen is the friend. If it's Lord of Lightning I'm talking with the enemy and retreat at once." Severus frowned. Why did they use such a dangerous way to talk to each other?

"Am I right to say that this will keep my weekends busy?" He would truly need to use whatever contacts he had left. Some of them might even be back from wherever they had been gone to.

"I need you to keep an eye on Harry; that is more important. You will have to send your men if possible, but don't tell them the keywords. If you need to verify the man's identity do it yourself; get me if necessary." Albus leaned back. "And Severus, please look again, if you find something at Nema's castle."

"I'll do so, but I doubt that there'll be any more clues. There was not anything left right after the destruction to begin with, and it's quite possible that those Red Robes took what was left after they finished whatever they had come to do." Severus shrugged. He had been checking the central point of destruction, the point from where the power surge had overrun the country, more than once after the first time when he witnessed the Red Robes; it would not be the last time either. Understandably he just did not like it very much; after all, the Dark Lord could come back at any moment. Severus had no death wish, but he would do what Albus … asked of him. The old man seemed somehow certain that the Dark Lord would not be back in the near future, at least not at his old hiding place. Of course, not knowing why he was repeatedly sent there irked Severus tremendously, as did the headmaster's display of certainty. Why did Dumbledore send one of his more useful spies to the place where they thought Voldemort in hiding?

"It would be easier if you'd tell me what you think I might find."

"It is possibly still hidden and will be revealed sometime later, or it is not yet there at all or gone already and will be brought back later. You'll know why and what when you find it, Severus." It was the same answer as always. At least the place had been and still was hidden with magic. Only very strong wizards had been able to recognize the source of power. The area from which the magical outburst originated was known to most, but few only knew the direct point from where the magic erupted.

"I trust you to keep Harry occupied. There are a lot of things that need to be done now, so I don't intend to interfere much with him for the time being. Just be sure to let me know if something unforeseen happens. Keep an eye on your Slytherins, too. I think there too might be brewing something after this summer." Albus tried to think of anything else. "Do you have questions?"

"No." Severus shook his head. He had long since stopped asking questions, as most of them would not be answered halfway satisfyingly. "I let you know when I get more information. Albus." Severus stood, nodded once in greeting and closed the door quietly after himself. At first he would put this conversation in his Pensieve, and after he had watched through his memories he would only leave the ones he thought of use for Albus … some of the memories he got out of Potter's head. Before he gave the old man even more information Severus needed to know more about the boy. Although, quite honestly, with this task at hand he had more important things to do for now besides trying to figure out what was going on with the precious Harry Potter, but Severus would make him angry, and then he would see what happened. His first priority was this stupid spy that had managed to get himself lost, than he would deal with the brat. At first the work, then the fun. Silently he was making plans whom to contact and how to start his search without drawing any unwanted attention.

Only when the Potions Master passed the gargoyle did Albus Dumbledore allow himself to lean back. Disgustedly he spit out the lemon drop and rinsed his mouth of the lingering sweetness with the last lukewarm bits of tea. He knew that Harry would become a problem, and with the way Severus' mind worked he would have to deal with him, too.


	33. Chapter 32 : Anger's Benefit

**Title:** Harry Potter and the Summer's Secret

_**Author:** Japhu_

_**Beta Reader:** Nagi_

_**Pairing:** HPSS_

_**Rating:** R_

_**Disclaimer:** I own nothing of Harry Potter and his world and don't make any money with it._

_**Summary:** For one week in summer Harry disappears without trace. When he comes back he claims to have no memory. But something happened and it changed him. It remains to be seen if for the better or the worse. (will be HPSS)_

_**Category:** action/adventure/angst_

_**Feedback:** highly appreciated_

_**A/N:** Thank you all for reviewing. _

_I'm truly sad that you all think my favourite lemon drop munching headmaster a nasty old bastard. Only because he doesn't like lemon drops as much as he makes everyone believe? Really, is that a good enough reason to condemn a person? ;)_

_To Tffne: Well, when you ask me directly I've to say that as far as the plot is gone already I didn't plan for Harry to have a pet of any sort. But hey, … the story's not yet written, so I'll try to think of something fitting. I'm not making any promises, though. Anyway, Harry can be frank with Sev for the time being (I don't think he'd mind, do you?). And the bonding part? Don't forget Hogwarts. He'll find help, I promise. The only question is what he's going to make of it._

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**Chapter 32 – Anger's Benefit **

Harry was not completely sure, but if it was possible that the dead could walk on Earth, they must certainly feel like he did at that moment right after waking up in the silent and fortunately still empty dormitory. Of course, nothing was eaten as hot as it was cooked and after a few minutes of intent staring into the air, Harry began to feel a bit better despite the remaining throb within his head. He turned finally around to watch the blurry dark grey outside of the window. It was still dark, though at least the storm seemed to have retreated. He knew that because the wind had stopped howling around the towers like a burning banshee; it took his glasses that lay right next to him – he should feel lucky he had not broken them while sleeping – for Harry to realize that the darkness was the first sign of the already approaching night.

Grumbling, Harry turned to the other side. The magical clock that woke the boys up in the morning showed it was already near evening, shortly before dinner. Yawning, Harry stretched his cramped muscles and while he was still sitting up everything that had happened this day came back with vengeance. With a heavy sigh he fell back onto his pillows, his hands folded behind his head, and tried to think of what he would have to do next.

Honestly, Harry did not really want to get up. Listening to the silence, Harry stayed were he was. He had had enough of gambling. When he heard the sounds of feet coming up the stairs there was nothing else to do. Sighing, Harry sat up, rubbed his eyes a last time and waited with a curious smile on his face to see who would come to get him out of his isolation.

"Hi, Neville." Harry grinned when the shy boy poked his head through the door as if he did not have his own bed in this room. "Why so cautious? Did something happen?"

"Oh!" Neville blinked. "You're awake." He looked around and stood fidgeting like a lost puppy amidst the normal all-day chaos in a room of five boys. "I wanted to warn you." He shrugged.

"Why?" Harry still smiled curiously while he tried to smooth out a few of the wrinkles in his robe.

"Some first year got his first points awarded."

"That's good. Why warn me?" Harry knew it. Stupid Snape.

"Well, no points that any Gryffindor got today showed up."

"It's not my fault that Snape's a bastard. I guess they need to get some more before Gryffindor is out of the negative. Sorry."

"Oh, I saw Snape." Neville shook his head emphatically. "Everyone knows he's unjust. I only said that because Ron found out. I don't think he's angry at you, Harry." Neville bit his lip.

"Great." Harry took his time to clear his glasses before he put them back on. Maybe he could use his still best friend's temper to his own merit. "Let's go down, Nev." Harry grinned at the boy, who stared uncertainly. "No use to wait it out. It's better we get this out of the way before we're going to dinner. Food will calm him down fast enough, I'm sure." Harry was already opening the door when he turned around with a questioning frown. Neville giggled.

"Did I miss something?" His lips twitched unwillingly.

"Oh, I'm … sorry, Harry." Neville's head vanished between his shoulders. "I'm just…"

"Nah." Harry shook his head. He really did not want to know. "Come on." He could Ron hear already. Harry would bet that someday this temper would get Ron into serious trouble.

The first thing he noticed when Neville and he stepped into the common room was Ron's face a few inches away from his own.

"You know, Harry," the red-faced boy growled with suppressed anger, "I really hate that bastard."

"Oh." Harry changed a look with Neville. "You're really not angry with me, aren't you?" Harry looked around. The common room was full. It seemed that not much people liked the stormy weather for a walk outside, but not many paid attention to Harry. The noise level was just too high to listen to anything less than screaming.

"'Course not," Ron grumbled before he stormed towards the hearth were Hermione was silently waiting; her clearly disapproving gaze locked onto Ron for a moment when the boy continued to rant. "I swear, Harry, Snape's finally totally cracked his ugly head on one of his stupid cauldrons, or he's inhaled too much potions fumes. Or he-"

"Stop it, Ron," Hermione admonished him. "What did you do anyway that he's not even waiting until we've some points to take away?" she asked Harry.

"Nothing, really." Harry watched when Neville took his clue to get out of the dangerous zone and towards the other end of the room where Dean and Seamus were leaning their heads together. "I just wanted to show Neville the kitchen before going to Dumbledore right away. Neville didn't know what to do, Hermione. I couldn't let him twiddle his thumbs till lunch." Harry sighed and walked over, watching the flames. After his nap he still felt a bit stiff and moody. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hermione shaking her head.

"You must. He's never made us go into the negative before, Harry."

"You know the git, Hermione." With a dark look at the girl, Harry sat back in a cosy armchair. When he remembered Snape it was easy to get angry. "Snape came, insulted our nonexistent intelligence, scared Neville away and took some points off for breathing wrong."

"But … so many points? The first year got fifty alone." She frowned. "He did a third year spell, more luck than knowledge I'd say, but anyway." She got back to the topic at hand. "It couldn't be that alone, Harry."

"Yes," Harry bit out sarcastically. "So many points, Hermione." Harry shrugged slightly and cast a suffering gaze at Ron, who rolled his eyes sympathetically. Then he turned indignantly back to Hermione. "Snape's an asshole. He took points because I didn't answer his question correctly, then he took them, because I did and –"

"What question?" the girl piped up.

"Oh, Herbology I think." Harry glared at her, but winked noncommittally after a moment. "I honestly don't know what he wanted." He sighed. She had successfully taken the wind out of his sails.

"And then?" Ron grinned, waiting for the finale.

"Nothing," Harry droned on as if reciting one of Aunt Petunia's shopping lists. "Snape insulted me a bit more, took some other points, and then he left in a hurry. He didn't have reasons to take points in the first place, but when he's pushing me I'll push him back." Harry crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows, leaning back angrily.

"So you _did_ do something!"

"No!" He met Hermione's gaze defiantly. "That's a promise for the future. When he thinks he's so much cleverer than little stupid me, then I'll make him eat his cauldron before the year's over."

"Ha." Ron grinned over his entire freckled face. "I'm in, Harry."

"Thanks." Harry grinned back. "Planning revenge is a lot more fun than having an useless talk with Dumbledore while Snape's breathing down my neck."

"He let the git stay?" Ron grumbled wide-eyed at the same time as Hermione wanted to know if he had been told what happened during the summer. Harry frowned darkly and his happy mood deflated. Trust Hermione to ask the necessary questions.

"Now, I would know!" Harry spat out in biting sarcasm. "All he said was that if I can't remember then he can't tell me. It's as simple as that. Then he babbled on and on about getting stronger and fighting harder, but I didn't find much use for me in all of that. There was something of interest, though." Harry looked around to make certain that no one was near enough to listen into what he said. The first students packed their things already and left for dinner. "This stupid … tattoo of Him is apparently playing crazy without summoning anyone." Harry explained very briefly and only in whispering tones how the Dark Mark looked now. It would be suspicious if he did not tell his friends of something like that when he was supposed to tell them everything.

Ron found it great. "Cool!" the redhead announced with a grin as bright as a Christmas tree. "Isn't the lightning bolt practically your sign, Harry? I mean, come on, it totally screams 'keep out! Harry Potter was here first.'"

"I know." What an irony. Harry could not really share Ron's enthusiasm. However, Hermione had a look as if this was another question for the library. She did not say anything in response to Harry's information. Harry would have to keep track of her to see what she found out. It would not do if they researched the same topic. The time was short enough as it was already.

"You still don't know what happened, though." She got to the crux of everything, sitting even more stiff than before. "It could be important!" Curiously, even she was now against a professor's decision to keep her friend blind of the danger. "He has to tell you what happened!"

"No." Harry snorted, humourless, and blew a strand of hair out of his face. "Nobody has to, and he certainly doesn't tell me anything. If I'm so lucky to get to know something of worth, then I'm the last one – even when it's my goddamn life."

Harry stood, too angry to sit still, his face like stone and his arms crossed over his chest. "If you want to know what's going on, I suggest you don't ask me. Go and ask Snape or Dumbledore." In an afterthought he added: "And if it's not too much to ask, I'd appreciate if you'd tell me what you found out."

Silently raging at everyone, Harry took the poker and stirred up the fire. He shook his head when his friends stayed silent. "I really don't understand how that man's working. At first people are going all panicky on me, trying to convince me that I've been hostage or something of Voldemort himself." Ron flinched. "And when I'm asking all I get are curious glances and pity, and a pat on my head from Dumbledore, who nurtures the opinion that it's just for my own safety to keep his suggestions to himself and to wait until I find out about whatever happened on my own." Harry scoffed, his rage reaching new heights. "As if. Didn't last year teach them anything? I don't think he'll tell me anything before I'm practically tripping over it." He voiced his thoughts with more emphasis than necessary and for good performance Harry made the fire's sparks fly extra high within the room. A few first years who saw the gleaming pieces of burnt wood fly into their direction moved back and some others looked him up and down carefully, not sure if it was better to keep away from him or try to console him. Lucky for them he had two friends who could do that. More people left to go to dinner.

"Snape being there laughing didn't really help that much." Harry paused a moment to continue more quietly. "I wonder when Dumbledore will think I'm old enough to decide what's right for me. I won't wait until I'm wearing a beard like he himself, singing crazy songs and stuffing my head with lemon drops." Harry was pulled out of his train of thoughts when Ron snorted in obvious amusement and bit his lips to keep from outright laughing when an image of a white haired Harry with moons and stars on his robes popped into his head. Ron swallowed when Hermione sent him a glare worthy of Snape. Smiling unnoticeably, Harry sat back in the armchair, his own look at least as dark as hers.

"Don't, Hermione!" Harry shook his head. "Just don't." He drew a deep breath, trembling with anger. "I don't want to hear it." Harry stormed out of the common room to the stairs, his face contorted to an angry mask, before anyone could say something.

"Happy now?" He could hear Ron's voice, and then Hermione: "Give him a moment to cool down, Ron." Then he had reached the dormitory, his angry short-tempered expression still in place.

However, as soon as Harry closed the door to the dormitory with a locking charm, his face changed to a rueful smile, his eyes no longer clouded in fury. Now they only radiated sadness. It was good that he would not have to keep up this charade for the whole year. In a few weeks, he could honestly tell anyone who listened that he had cooled down after he just … grieved for Sirius.

Harry lay on his bed and waited for exactly eight and a half minutes before he made his way down to the common room. Hermione and Ron were the only ones still there and they looked up both at once when they heard him coming down the stairs.

"I'm sorry, guys." Harry pulled a face. "I didn't want to flip out on you." With an impish smile on his lips, he tried to explain the unexplainable. "It's just so frustrating sometimes…"

"We know, Harry." Hermione smiled and met Ron's gaze. Had she not said that Harry would calm down? "No harm done. Let's go to dinner now, before Ron starves."

"Hey! I … I resent that!" Ron put his hands to his hips and Harry grinned. It seemed as if Ron had glimpsed that word over Hermione's shoulders when she had been reading one of her intellectual books. The three friends gazed at each other and after only a moment of silent hesitation, they left the Gryffindor common room.

For Ron this whole episode seemed to be finished; all that interested him was what he would have to eat. Hermione was still watching him like a hawk, waiting for a moment to get more information than Harry was forthcoming with. He knew her. It was in her nature to have an opinion to everything. She let Ron talk about nonsense during the whole way down to the great hall, but she would not keep back forever. Probably, rather sooner than later, Harry would talk to her before she talked to someone else. For now, though, they avoided dark lords and kidnappings; and finally, Harry could grill the others to get some information himself.

"Enough of food, Ron. How was your first day? How have classes been?" Now when Harry had officially cooled down from his trip into the headmaster's sphere of influence he really wanted to know what his classmates thought of this strange guy who was supposed to teach them in Defence.

"Care of Magical Creatures was okay. I thought it'd be easier though. Hagrid gives us a lot more to read," Ron said a bit grumpily, so he brightened just as soon. "But those Copperduck thingies we are doing now are really weird. They don't look anything like ducks, and they eat copper." Rather disappointed, Ron shook his head. "They didn't look a bit dangerous."

"That's hard luck, Ron." Harry tried to show some sympathy, but who wanted to now about animals? "Did Dean tell you about Brado?"

"Not much," Ron shrugged, "but when we had that guy after lunch we didn't do much more than listen to him blathering on and on about what he's supposed to teach us. Urgh." He shook his head. "I swear, Harry, he's in love with his own voice."

"So he's really just another Lockhart?" It did not really seem fitting. Harry still believed the man to be … dangerous. Admittedly, in the end Lockhart had been dangerous too, but somehow it seemed more concrete. Harry could not shake the bad feeling he had about Brado. Questioning, he gazed past Ron at the one friend who would not be that prejudiced against teachers in general.

"No." Hermione frowned at Ron. She did that quite often these days. "He just told us some of the topics he expects we know from previous years and some of what we'll go through with him. You should've made notes, Ron, instead of playing games with Seamus."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Sure. It's not as if he'll repeat everything as he did during class – was it twice or thrice?"

"All right, he did talk a bit much." Again she frowned at the redhead. "But what the Professor said was actually very informative. Defence could really be interesting this year." She smiled. It was obvious that she looked forward to the next DADA lesson. "There are some things we'll have to read on our own because we didn't get to them last year, and at least now we know the right books we ought to get from the library to prepare for the lessons."

"Yeah." Grudgingly, Ron scratched his head. "Dean did have a double lesson. Maybe they got actually down to opening their books and doing some spells." He seemed rather sarcastic.

"So you think he knows what he's doing?" Harry asked Hermione. Maybe he should not have skipped the last part of the lesson.

"I think so." Hermione did not seem so certain. "He talks as if he really knows what he's teaching, though how that goes together with his choice of clothes is anybody's guess. Maybe he's eccentric. Geniuses often are."

"He could simply be mad." Ron mumbled. "Thought about that?" Harry sighed. He would have no choice but to wait for the next lesson to see for himself.

"Anyway." Ron's eyes brightened when they stepped into the hall and he spotted the richly set tables. "I'm famished."

Harry was the last one to sit next to his heavily busy friend. How could a person eat so much and still live to tell about it? Harry shook his head and steeled himself for the plate that would pop out in front of him the moment he sat down.

Since Dumbledore's office he had this headache. It was not getting painful, though it did not lessen either. Harry forgot that it was there when he did not think about it or move his head too fast. It was just a dull throb that had not changed since Tom had gotten into frenzy when he had caught on Snape's attempt to legilimize him.

Harry thought the pain would intensify now when he was amidst much more active magic, but it did not. The plate popped up together with a glass of pumpkin juice and more food and Harry realized that he did not feel anything save a barely noticeable tingle deep in his stomach. He was not as vulnerable as he had been before when someone near him did magic. Once more, Harry was having mixed feelings about the castle's interference. He was glad that it had taken away a fair bit of his powers – and not. It was hard not to think about it.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry glanced towards the head table. Hopefully, his less than great power was also displayed in his aura. Not that Harry had been able to see his own aura even once – not even a mirror worked in that case – but he was nearly sure that it had diminished together with everything else. It was logical, if anything could still be in this crazy world. Or did it mean that Harry simply did not have an aura, like the Thestrals and (perhaps) Dumbledore himself? Was that the reason he could not see his own aura? He would have liked to ask Dumbledore.

The aura showed his magical strength after all and, when he did not have that anymore, there was no possibility for anyone to see the real foundations of his abilities – not even for Dumbledore if his fate was reasonable – as he did not really have those abilities anymore.

There were a few possibilities how this aura riddle could work out for or against his favor. First, Dumbledore could see magical auras in general but had no way to watch past the castle's interference, so that he thought Harry's aura to be its normal appearance. Second, Dumbledore had seen Harry's aura before the castle's mingling but could not do so anymore and was thus growing really suspicious because he could actually see everyone else's aura and knew or at least suspected that Harry had somehow manipulated his own. Or, third, Dumbledore was as clueless as a pumpkin, knew nothing about anything and that he himself did not have an aura at all was all but a coincidence, which had nothing to do with what happened to Harry.

Harry picked at his food thoughtfully. During the talk with the headmaster he had not realized anything odd going on, at least, nothing that indicated that the old man had any knowledge of magical auras. Still, no one with some sensitivity to magic could have totally overlooked that something happened at the welcoming feast; and if Dumbledore could actually see magic…? Harry would go crazy thinking about that. It was just hard to decide if he was glad or worried about Hogwarts' interference. It all depended on how Dumbledore was going to react on the long run, if and what he knew or suspected.

However, more pressing than even that was the fact that now as it was out in the open (for Harry) that Hogwarts had a personality of its own, maybe even a soul; Harry could in no way predict what it would do next. People could be unpredictable. What would a magical being like Hogwarts do that lived for thousands of years and had nothing to fear of simple humans? Harry had no means to ask what the castle tried to accomplish with binding his magic from him. Was there more to it? Did it try to tell him something, to do something?

He could not research Hogwarts' personality either as there would be no books to read on this matter. As a student of Hogwarts, he certainly would have heard of it already. Horror stories about the castle eating students after curfew or something equally stupid would be whispered from generation to generation of students. There would have been talking in the corridors if even the possibility of a building developing its own conscience existed somewhere in the Wizarding world; and certainly Hermione would have mentioned something like that.

Nevertheless, there was this feeling in the back of his head – it was not Tom – that an undefined something was happening. Harry was certain of it, such as when a shudder ran down your back and you simply knew without having enough words to explain.

The headache that seemed wanting to nest a long time in his head was really not helping him concentrate. Frowning, Harry pushed his food around, trying fruitlessly to follow that feeling to its end. He did not want to have to do anything with the castle. Not above everything else. If anyone listened in it was easy to concentrate on this thought, but the feeling did not change. It was still there. Someone was watching, always and with inhuman composure as if nothing could shake it up. There was no point to set on a knife. It had to be the castle. His expression slipped, though he changed that with visible effort into a friendly smile.


	34. Chapter 33 : Shirking Duty

**Title:** Harry Potter and the Summer's Secret

_**Author:** Japhu _

_**Beta Reader:** Nagi_

_**Pairing:** HPSS_

_**Rating:** R_

_**Disclaimer:** I own nothing of Harry Potter and his world and don't make any money with it._

_**Summary:** For one week in summer Harry disappears without trace. When he comes back he claims to have no memory. But something happened and it changed him. It remains to be seen if for the better or the worse. (will be HPSS)_

_**Category:** action/adventure/angst_

_**Feedback:** highly appreciated_

* * *

**Chapter 33 – Shirking Duty**

Harry swallowed and pushed his plate away to find enough space to put his elbow on the table. His head was growing heavy and it would take another hour for Ron to finish the mountain he had loaded upon his plate. After a moment of wishing that Ron might eat a little bit faster, Harry looked around and found finally the person he had asked himself where she had landed.

Blinking, Harry winked back at the girl who sat between Seamus' cousins, brightly grinning, with the doll she had cried about safely tucked away under her left arm. Seeing her laughing with Para and Oonagh Harry wondered whether some of her new housemates made fun of her or if it bothered her if they did. Even if others might hide an old teddy bear in their beds for dark nights when homesickness slammed down, she was the only student he knew that carried her favourite toy around like a lifeline. She seemed happy enough in Hufflepuff. Hopefully spite was not part of a Hufflepuff's personality. It was quite different with the Slytherins, though.

"You know, Ron." Harry interrupted the redhead's stuffing marathon. "I bet you get a lot to do this year."

"Huh?" Ron glanced at Hermione and swallowed before he spoke. "What are you talking about?"

"Your task." Harry pointed towards the girl. "When the snakes realize the doll she's carrying around, you'll get something to do."

"I'll set Ginny on her." Ron grinned darkly. "After all, it's her boyfriend's sister, not mine. Maybe then she'll let that stupid Muggle go if that Sinje comes crying every day."

"Ron!" Hermione looked scandalized.

"What? I'm not good with little kids, and I'm even worse with girls." He gazed down the table were Ginny sat with her friends. "I don't like that Muggle. He's always going gooey and puppy eyed."

"I didn't notice that you're so set against Ginny and … Tore, was it?" Harry was truly surprised. Ron had seemed alright with it when he told them in the train. He thought it had been their mother who did not want Ginny to get a boyfriend (no matter if he was Muggle or wizard).

"Yeah," Ron mumbled his mouth full with mashed … something and swallowed, "and no. I'm not, not really anyway. It's just … she's fifteen."

"So? It's not that long ago since you were fifteen too. What's the matter?"

"I'd be happier if she'd gone on with Dean. He's here at least."

"So you can have an eye on him?" Harry grinned. "You should be glad. She could meet Dean in a dark corner after curfew." Harry was immune to Ron's dark look. "She can't meet the Muggle until the holidays arrive. I doubt that he'll find a way to even get to Hogsmeade without an ounce of magic in him."

"Oh, you're right, mate." Ron blinked. "Thanks." His grin went from one ear to the other. He winked at Ginny, his fork still in a tight grip, when he caught her gaze. Visibly relaxed, he got himself another helping.

"Are you satisfied now?" Harry smirked behind his hand.

"Yeah. Now I'm even more hungry." Ron said it and stuffed himself with a roasted banana with hot pumpkin sauce. It was sweet and spicy – Harry had tried it once – and it made Harry's stomach grumble disapprovingly.

"Hu mow mhat me hu humowow?"

"What?" Harry blinked.

"That's disgusting, Ron." Hermione pulled a face.

"I asked if you know what we can do tomorrow."

"Why? What happens? I've not missed some anniversary or some such thing, have I?" Harry glanced at Hermione, but the girl was just as clueless as he and shrugged noncommittally.

"It's the weekend, mate. We've hardly any homework. It makes it so much harder to find enough interesting things to spend the time, don't you think? Still, I like it when the school year starts with a weekend. But what are we going to do as we can't yet go to Hogsmeade?" Ron sighed, suffering with indecision.

"Well…" Harry crossed his hands behind his head and watched the sky, grey and dark, the same as the whole day, only now it did not feel so … vivid and taxing. Just a moment's peace would be nice tomorrow, before he began his search and tested his limits.

"I'm going into the library," Hermione announced, full of energy. "I want to get those books the Professor recommended before all the Ravenclaws get their hands onto them." Her eyes glinted secretively. "I want to look up some other things too."

"Great." Ron groaned and turned hopefully. "Harry?"

"I think," Harry shrugged apologetically, "that I'll take Hermione's idea." He put his chin back into his hand, waiting for the temper to show after Ron managed to close his mouth.

"What? Why? Are you sick?"

"I'm not sick -" Not to mention his headache - "but I've missed the first day of classes and I don't want to fall behind. It will pile up and I'll have to study even more later on."

"That's stupid, Harry." Ron's gaze turned to his dessert disappointedly and not with the least bit of understanding. "You can just say that the headmaster needed to talk to you. It's not a good reason to study on the first weekend in school. We should explore, set up some traps for Malfoy and visit Hagrid. He asked how you're doing, by the way."

"I'm sure Hagrid won't mind if we go to him another time." Ron snorted and Harry looked at the head table. The half giant was not there. Dumbledore and Snape were, though; and Snape was watching the Gryffindor table with that dark, assessing look he used to intimidate the students.

There had been times when that look worked very well with Harry. This year it was already different, though. Harry recalled that when Snape had stepped into the office right behind him, positioning himself next to the door after he had escorted him so very politely to the office, Harry was barely able to refrain from looking back at him reproachfully, not in the least intimidated. Now, taking a cautious glance towards the forbidding, staring man, Harry thought that Snape really underestimated him if he thought that Harry Potter would take a detour towards the other end of the castle as soon as he stepped away from the door (even for Harry, that would have been too obvious an attempt in avoiding the headmaster and his questions), or that he would be prevented from going anywhere he liked if he truly wanted to only because the bastard stood in the way. Whatever the reason, Harry did not like that the git had been invited to linger about.

Dumbledore was not easy to play at and neither was Snape. That both had been present during the whole talk made it harder to deal with each of them separately in the future. It would be great if the library held a book about the inner workings of a crazy old man's mind with some additional chapters on how to deal with vengeful spies.

There had been a moment when Dumbledore had seemed surprised, right after Harry had stepped into the office. Cautiously, Harry glanced at the old man. Nothing showed that the man was anything but disgustingly cheerful as he chattered away with McGonagall. That had been the only really strange look he had caught so far, but earlier Harry had dismissed it easily, not furthering that thought when he needed to survive that talk at first, because one way or another Dumbledore always looked strangely at him, so it was really nothing out of the ordinary. Now though, it seemed as if Dumbledore had made a decision the moment Harry entered his office, one to determine how to deal with him further – and it caught Harry slightly off guard.

It did not help anything; the meeting would have gone much better if Harry knew what Dumbledore thought or had made of the talk, what he expected or wanted. The whole ordeal had not gone as it was supposed to, but it had not been a total failure either. After all, he had managed to come out with his secrets intact; he had not yet been shoved off towards Azkaban. What could he want more? He had to make some compromises. It was the headmaster, after all. Of course, Harry could tell that the man was suspicious. In these times, in his position, it was not healthy not to be; Harry understood that. He just wanted to be left alone. He hoped with all his might that he had enough time to prepare and research everything he needed for real before Dumbledore caught on and began to meddle even more than he would be able to do now.

"You're looking as if you want to throw your food at them," Ron whispered, following his gaze questioningly.

"This idea has merit." Harry grinned, inwardly sighing heavily when Ron blinked at him hopefully.

"Are you serious?" He glanced cautiously towards Hermione. "With this studying bit? I doubt she'll even realize that you're there and help us with our homework anyway."

"Well…" Harry scratched his head.

"Oh, come on, mate. You can't do that! You're the only one to save me from a day of boredom. You can always … study," he pulled a face, "after dinner or so."

"I think about it, okay? Ask me again tomorrow." Harry opted to ignore his sometimes stupid best friend from then on and glanced down the table. Naturally he ended where the teachers were putting their heads together. He got a good look at Snape watching him with something akin to puzzlement. Whatever was going on in that greasy head, Harry would have to deal with it at some point in the future. Curious, he turned to his friend.

"By the way, Hermione, how was Potions?"

"You mean because Professor Snape was with Dumbledore?" Hermione followed his look before she shrugged indifferently. "The head boy sat watch and we read the first five chapters in the book. For next week we have to write an essay about it." She smiled. "He said that Professor Snape will give us a quiz in the next lesson."

"Hn." Harry frowned, suppressing the urge to rub his temples.

"Are you angry because Professor Snape was listening in or because the headmaster didn't tell you what happened?" Hermione glanced at the head table. "If it bothers you so much, why don't you wait for Dumbledore and ask him after dinner? Some time he has to tell you if you're sleeping in front of his office."

"Why not? I'm not some fan of him waiting for an autograph." Harry bared his teeth. "I mean, Hermione, I asked him repeatedly; I don't want to beg on my knees before he tells me what's going on. If he wants me to do anything he'll have to say it, and he has to explain exactly why and what and everything else. Understood?"

"Yes, of course," she said calmly. "That's still no reason to bite off my head."

"Let's just stop," Harry mumbled sullenly. "I don't need you pestering me even more. Are you ready with that?" He turned to Ron. "Then let's get out of here." Without waiting for a reply, Harry stood up and climbed out from the bench. He was tired of having to repeat himself.

Finally they, especially Hermione, would figure out that something else other than a simple disagreement or even Sirius' death was the reason for Harry's changed personality. Harry did not delude himself. He was not that good an actor, not that certain about what he was doing, that he could stay an angry, brooding teenager for the whole year. When they caught on that he did not only study because he wanted to burry himself in work, to drown his grief and anger and the helplessness about deck of cards fate had dealt him with, Harry would have no answer, no choice but to push back and that way end a friendship that had brought him through lots of hard times.

It was better the friendship ended earlier than later. It would be easier for them in the long run, whichever way this year ended. Either Harry would have no choice but to kill himself to prevent Voldemort from taking over, or he would do the ritual as he hoped and his friends would lose him still, not that Harry minded. Everything for the greater good. Harry scoffed and shook those morbid thoughts away. It was easy to get carried away. There was no way to be sure about anything.

Harry glanced back to see that his friends followed him, somewhat subdued. Sighing, he strode out of the great hall towards Gryffindor tower. They had better get used to him. Harry was not going to change.

His gaze locked onto the floor, Harry stepped around the corner. He just saw the dark robe in front of him, but in this moment he was already running into the person that was a good bit taller than him.

Stumbling back Harry straightened. "Oh, Professor McGonagall. I'm sorry, I didn't see you coming."

"That much I was able to notice, Mr. Potter." She hesitated a moment. "Mr. Weasley, Ms. Granger. Go on your way. I have to talk to Mr. Potter for a moment."

For once his friends went without complain, but both of them threw him a look that spoke volumes. Harry was certain that they would wait just around the corner at the stairs. They were much too predictable.

"Professor?" Confused as to what he could have done wrong now, save running into his head of house, Harry gazed at his professor.

"Last year I promised you that I would get you into the NEWTs class of potions. I apologize that I wasn't able to keep that promise."

Harry smiled up at her, a hint of regret visible in his eyes. "It's all right, Professor. The headmaster gave me my lesson plan already." He sighed, still heartbroken that he had not made it in NEWTS Potions class. "I know I did badly in the Potions OWLs. I'm sorry to disappoint you, Professor McGonagall. It's my own fault for failing Professor Snape's expectations, even though I knew he only accepts … the better than average students in his class." He pulled a face but suppressed his grimace an instant later.

"Mr. Potter…." She began and stopped. Harry could not tell what she thought by the way she looked at him.

"It's not that bad, Professor. I don't have to become an … Auror." Harry sighed resignedly, looking as if his dream was going up in smoke. "I'll simply do something else. I'm sure there are lots of possibilities for me." He said and smiled bravely at his head of house. "I'm still taking average Potions, so maybe I can read up the rest I need in the library." He did not sound very convinced of himself; clearly his brave front was only for the benefit of his professor.

"I will see what I can do, Mr. Potter." Her eyes narrowed determinedly. "You will get the lessons you need in another way." Her lips twitched to a rare smile. "After all, we can't have someone with your aptitude lost to the world."

"Yes. Thank you." Gratefully Harry's smile became a bit brighter, though it diminished only a moment later.

"Mr. Potter?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, it's just … Professor Snape doesn't like me much and… well."

"Rest assured, Mr. Potter, that I will talk to Professor Snape on this matter."

"That'd be great, Professor." Harry grinned.

The woman nodded gruffly and glanced behind the boy. "Now, Mr. Potter, I suggest you don't let your friends wait any longer. They seem to be rather impatient having to wait for you."

"Oh." Harry turned to see Ron peering around the corner. Very inconspicuous. "Yes, Professor and -" he smiled charmingly up at her- "thank you very much." Harry watched her go. It was nice to know that something was working in his favour. He rolled his eyes when Hermione and Ron came back, curiously following his gaze.

"What'd she want?" Ron asked expectantly.

"She's going to help me to become an Auror," Harry said happily.

"Oh." Ron looked warily at him and Hermione's brows rose. "That's great."

"Yep. It is." Harry grinned, his steps bouncing much more on his way up to the tower than when he had gone down to dinner.

"But how's she going to do that?" Hermione bit her lip.

"She wants to talk with Snape to get the NEWTs lesson plan and I'll do the stuff on my own." Harry ignored Hermione's wide-eyed astonishment. "I'm sure I can do that when I really want to." Not that it would really come to that.

"So that means you're going to … really study this year, huh, mate?"

"Oh, Ron." Harry patted his friend lightly on the shoulder. "We'll still have time for you to beat me in chess and I think I can leave some days out so that we can visit Malfoy and his goons to pay him back for all the years he made us watch his ferret face."

"Yeah." Ron did not sound as if he meant it wholeheartedly, though Harry was not bothered much. He would have nearly no time to keep up with Ron's expectations on how to spend time in the idlest ways, but this was just the way it had to be. Harry shrugged and bounced ahead of his friends, his steps light for once. He could make it.

Harry was only pulled out of his more agreeable mood when he arrived the portrait to the common room of Gryffindor. He had never much cared about the Fat Lady in his years here – save when he had wanted to see her after Sirius had practically ripped her portrait apart in third year. Now Harry found that he did not like that person very much and would not mind if Sirius came to scratch her a bit with his claws.

The nearer Harry got the louder she became, her screaming practically ear-shattering. And what she said – my, my. She knew certainly interesting words to badmouth someone she did not like.

"What happened now? What did you do to her, Harry?" Harry turned back to his friends and shrugged the frown away that Hermione directed at him.

"Nothing really. You're just behind me, aren't you? I'm wondering myself, really." Harry's lips twitched, but he was better at suppressing his grin than Ron. The redhead did not seem able to help himself and grinned like an idiot, not once looking away from the screaming banshee the Fat Lady seemed to want to change into.

"What exactly did you do to her, Harry?" Hermione observed the Fat Lady like an unknown specimen under a microscope. "I mean, she wouldn't make such a ruckus only because you … knocked, would she?" Harry snorted.

"Yeah." Ron grinned. "It sure looks as if she can't stand you, mate."

"Well…" Harry did not look particularly sorry, even if he possibly would have avoided such a scene if he had been in better shape earlier. "She's taking the little argument we had a bit hard. But she'll come around. She's a nice lady or she wouldn't be a lady at all. Aren't you?" He turned a sweet smile at the woman when she had to pause to take a breath. She spluttered in indignation but listened avidly nevertheless. Harry barely refrained himself from poking her in the stomach before he said the password and the still bickering portrait swung to the side. At least she could not get into the dormitory and he had the evening free from anything disturbing.

The remaining time before they parted for the night they spent quietly at their usual seats in front of the hearth, Hermione buried in a book (what a surprise), and Ron beating Harry very soundly at chess. Both of his friends were much more easy going when they had something other than Harry to occupy their minds. Harry did not mind to stop thinking when he set the stones so that Ron could take them.

Chess was really not Harry's forte; even if he should take all his mind to accomplish it, or try doing better, it was a lost cause with him. He might have caught a lot of knowledge from Voldemort, but chess strategies had not been among it as far as Harry could remember. Harry bit his lip and set another pawn (one of his last) forward. He just did not see the use to try to predict which way the pieces moved and when that stupid horse was near enough to beat the pawn, as Ron's was doing now.

"I think it's time to call it a night." Harry yawned when his king shook his fist at him when Ron took his only way to safety. The chess pieces did not like it very much to play on his side in this little war, though Harry found it amusing how they always muttered about his stupidity during the whole game, almost like a bunch of miniature Snapes. Of course, Harry did not tell them that he had to suppress a smile at least once per game. Their obvious dislike and the way in which they discounted his abilities were often the only things that kept him from sleeping and helped a lot to continue the game until Ron did have his own bit of success.

"Yeah." Ron grinned, his look still on the triumphantly cheering white chess pieces. "Everyone else is gone anyway," he said with a careless glance into the common room and gathered the angry likewise with the happy pieces into their box.

Then they had only to wait a moment until Hermione had put her mountain of books and parchment into a neat pile the boys went to their own dormitory with a roll of their eyes and a last "Good night" and the natural "Happy dreams" for him.

It had to be only shortly before midnight. Harry frowned. His headache was still sitting in the back of his head and some time around the evening his left shoulder had begun to sting whenever his shirt rubbed over it. Yesterday it had been nothing but a little red spot, but now, when he pulled aside the clothes, it looked as if someone had dropped hot oil onto his shoulder. The burn itself was not bigger than a knut, but the pain reached far deeper. It stung like hell now when he knew it was there.

"Urgh!" Ron stepped close to him. "Where did you get that?"

"Oh, that's a burn I got when I fried bacon for the Dursleys breakfast. Its not bad, it just looks that way," Harry said and let the cloth fall back.

"But it looks pretty bad, mate."

"Maybe, but it doesn't hurt much." Where the spell had touched him the skin was an angry red with small white blisters. That was definitely a strange and not to say slightly violent way to summon a person. He wondered if he would have been fried on the spot had the full spell hit. Harry was certain that something like that would inevitably fall under Dark Arts where the ministry was concerned. A hell of a …summoning spell that was, but certainly not of use when he wanted the one at the receiving end to be alive in the end.

"If it's not getting better in a few days I'll let Hermione magic it away, alright?" Another yawn settled this topic. "I'm going to hit the mattress." Harry shrugged of his robes. "G'night, Ron."

"Yeah, sleep tight, Harry." The redhead frowned. "But how were you frying that bacon anyway?"

"Obviously in the wrong way." Grinning, Harry pulled the hangings close and changed into his pajamas, before he fell back and stared unthinkingly at the canopy. A few moments later he grimaced. His bladder would not like to wait an entire night. Sighing, Harry pulled the hangings open and got up again.

The moment his bare feet touched the stones Harry flinched away with a surprised yelp. That was not good. Merlin! Harry had never been faster to get back onto his bed. He had not been aware of this yesterday, or was it something new? What the hell had that stupid stone box done to him? More importantly, what was it still doing? He breathed deeply, his stare transfixed to the inconspicuous ground.

"Harry?" cautiously Ron put his head out.

"Uh… sorry. I just thought I felt a …spider crawling over my feet." Harry grimaced when Ron sat up again wide-eyed, a really scared look on his face, before a frown settled in.

"But you're not afraid of spiders." He never once gave Harry more than a furtive glance; the ground with a potential spider was much more dangerous.

"Well, you can't fault me that I'm a bit cautious, and even though they're not my greatest fear that doesn't mean that I like to have them crawling up my pants." Harry set down onto his blanket, his heart still beating heavily while he took all his guts to put a foot back down onto the stone floor, consciously trying to figure out what that had been he had felt …tickling his soles. He had no better word. What had him jumping in fright, though, was something totally different.

Harry knew that the castle was there, in the back of his head. He felt its presence always like a steady buzz of different people talking just out of earshot. It was not that he understood it better now, but whatever it had done when it shielded him from his more powerful magic, the … connection between became stronger, almost tangible, when his skin came in contact with its stone.

"Go back to sleep, Ron," Harry called out to his still watching friend.

"Yeah." He mused silently. "Keep safe from any …spiders."

Harry nodded with a roll of his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief when the curtains around Ron's bed closed.

Daringly Harry reached out and touched the wall behind his four-poster. It – whatever it was – got clearer. He tilted his head. It was hard to describe. It was not like the same as when he had stepped into the castle. There was no probing, no painful searching through his mind. It almost seemed as if Hogwarts held back its … Harry was at a loss. A smile tugged at his lips. Could it be that the castle felt … happy that Harry did what he was doing now? That the castle waited for something to happen, determinedly and with hint of expectant glee? His eyes narrowed. There was a lot of certainty. Abruptly, Harry pulled his hand away. He did not need anyone else pushing him this way and without giving him a choice where he would rather go.

Despite everything, there was still this feeling as if he had finally found home. Harry had always thought of Hogwarts as his home, but now it seemed to have a foundation, something to build up on. When he put his bare feet or hands on the stone it felt more real than ever before. With a doubtful frown on his face Harry fell asleep, not certain what the next day would bring.

However, it was still in the middle of the night, not long after sleep had finally claimed even the last one in the dormitory, when Harry began to turn restlessly as if caught in a bad dream. A whimper found its way through his tightly pressed lips and his eyes glowed eerily when the power manifested itself. The magic that was still Harry's to control filled every fibre of him and did everything it could to preserve his unconscious mind; but only when Harry was aware of an attack could he actively fight against it to prevent an intruder from attacking at another point of the barrier that took part of his mind and made it a dark and dingy dungeon without doors or any other way to leave but through the wall itself.

Harry shot awake with a silent scream on his lips. The headache he had gone to sleep with impacted like a sledgehammer. Pain radiated through every cell of his body. His magic boiled deep down within him with a frightening intensity that made Harry shiver as if he was suffering a fever. Harry clenched his teeth. Tom was a devious bastard. The whole evening he had done nothing but to gather his own magic to strike back now when no one was possibly observing and Harry himself was at his weakest. Tom did not want to get caught, but he wanted to get out desperately; that much was clear.

Merlin! He could not even in his sleep get away from being who he was. Harry pressed his hands against his skull, his eyes firmly shut, and curled up tightly under his blanket.

The control about Tom's cell was wavering. Harry should have suspected something like that. The headache should have given ample time to warn him. He knew that Tom would repeatedly attempt to break out. He had known since he had that bastard within his head.

Harry had to keep the barrier up whatever else. This time though, he would have to wait for Tom to give up on his own, for Harry did not have enough strength to pin down Tom when the bastard had gathered up everything that was left to him. All he could do was strengthen the shields where Tom did his utmost to break from his confinement. Not once did Harry lessen in his concentration while he waited for the night to pass.


	35. Chapter 34 : Weekend's Malady

**Title:** Harry Potter and the Summer's Secret

_**Author:** Japhu _

_**Beta Reader:** Nagi_

_**Pairing:** HPSS_

_**Rating:** R_

_**Disclaimer:** I own nothing of Harry Potter and his world and don't make any money with it._

_**Summary:** For one week in summer Harry disappears without trace. When he comes back he claims to have no memory. But something happened and it changed him. It remains to be seen if for the better or the worse. (will be HPSS)_

_**Category:** action/adventure/angst_

_**Feedback:** highly appreciated_

* * *

**Chapter 34 – Weekend's Malady**

The first rays of sunshine already peered through the windows when Harry was just about to doze off, not quite able to stay wide-awake anymore, but not willing to fall asleep either. This morning found Harry in a bad mood. He had just closed his eyes minutes ago when the mattress shuddered under a new shifting weight. Harry growled and blinked his heavy lidded eyes open half-heartedly and right in time for Ron's grinning face to pop into sight.

"Still for studying, mate? The sun's out. It'd be more fun to feed Malfoy to the squid." It must really be late if even Ron was up and about. Harry just grunted. His headache was not getting any better and he would bet that the dark circles were back under his eyes.

"Urgh…!" Harry rubbed his head. "I'm not doing anything today." Constantly a yawn threatened to break free.

"Nightmares?"

"Yep, something like that." Harry gave a feeble swish with his hand and Ron's face popped out of his line of view in a matter of a blink. "Come back later, Ron. It's the weekend."

"If you think so." Ron seemed doubtful, but he was never one to easily miss an opportunity to eat. Harry did not need much will to convince Ron that it would be better if he did not wait for him, after all, he could still try to save some food for him and bring it up afterwards. That took care of any bad conscience Ron might have and he went happily to have his breakfast.

For Harry breakfast was a fast affair. He simply slept through it; at least that was what his friends believed. In reality he just lay in his bed and waited. He did not wait for something certain to happen, he just waited for the time to pass and for Tom to try another stunt Harry needed to fend off.

Sadly, Harry had come to realize that Tom was not giving in easily. Harry had barely enough time to catch a breath between the attacks, some just a tickle to remind Harry that Tom was there, others nearly enough to break the barrier.

It was taxing to keep himself ready for the attacks, not knowing if he would need to throw in everything he still had, or if it was just one of those things that Tom thought funny. Harry never knew beforehand, so he spend the night being ready at all times in a state of suspense; not very forthcoming to his physical health, and with time Tom would bear down his mind, too. And if Harry's concentration wavered even once…

Twice this night Harry found himself stumbling to the lavatory when he felt his dinner rising. Both times he had to sit down on the cold tiles to catch his breath afterwards, because he was hard on his limits of being overwhelmed. It was not the magic Tom sent his way, but the feelings that came through that were almost worse than the attacks itself, so much vileness and rotten pleasure that Harry wondered why he had not been sick in his stomach more often.

Morosely, Harry traced the half moon shaped marks in his palms and wondered how they had gotten there. So much had happened in so short a time. How could he think of everything? Sighing, Harry knew that it was just a matter of time until something important slipped by his mind and would make this year a hazard to get through.

Harry blinked tiredly, feeling more dead than alive, but it did not help anything. He had to start some time, even if Tom never stopped to use brutal force to break not only the barrier itself but Harry's will also. Self-pity would not help get it done; and no one would come to rescue the great Harry Potter from his fate. If he wanted this to be done the right way he would have to do it himself. So it was with a pounding head that Harry finally crawled up to begin what could no longer be delayed. Harry propped his elbows on his knees, his fists pressed against his burning eyes. He had so much to look at. Where should he begin?

He needed to find references to the ritual Voldemort had tried this summer. Harry would have to go through every step – theoretically of course – to see where the ritual had gone wrong and why. Then he would be especially friendly to Madam Pince and find a friend who would not mind him finishing one of the library-bound books very quietly in some corner even after the library had officially closed. His first aim was the restricted section. He could not remember having heard the name of the ritual, but he was certain that it would be found only in the restricted section if at all. Harry doubted that he could find something about dark soul binding spells, soul changing or exorcising curses (and whatever other words there were to use in this particular happenstance) in books that were accessible to first years.

Harry would have to see if he could use this ritual for his own purpose, though he rather doubted that, as he did not want to possess another body and throw out the original soul in doing so. Maybe it was more like exorcism, though that brought rather bad images to his mind from that film Dudley had once seen late at night when his parents had been to bed earlier. Harry had poked his head through the door into the living room, very curious as to what sweet Duddikins could do that was forbidden even to him. Anyway, final result of this adventure had been nightmares and a wet bed for Dudley and much fun for Harry, though he himself had had vivid dreams for some nights – but luckily not as vivid as his cousins'. Long speech, less thought, Harry did not really want to do anything like that. Never mind that he would be hard pressed to find something that came even close to a priest. Harry would be sure to search for other ways to find a ritual that banished Tom in every essence not just from his body but also from this world.

However, just as important as to find the right way to get rid of Voldemort was Hogwarts. Everything about bonding and anything related to that would give a lot of material for dozens of years, not to say that anything of that would give any clues about buildings that initiated a bond, or at least something that was disturbingly similar to that.

Then there was his magic in general. Was it a normal occurrence to be able to see magic, or to feel it in a way that it made you crumble to the ground when you visited places like Diagon Alley or Hogwarts?

There would probably be nothing about the Red Robes in any book. He still had to find a way to find out more about them. Even Dumbledore seemed to be much more interested than he generally would let on to any other matter.

If Harry brooded over what topic to start with until eternity caught up he would get nothing done. In the end was one topic as good as the other with which to begin – and he must not forget Hermione. Harry grimaced. He would actually have to read _'Hogwarts, A History'_ now, because there was hopefully something of use to read on the castle's origins, though he would take the library's edition rather than ask Hermione for her own copy. Some questions were better never asked, lest he had to think of a reasonable answer.

Harry bit his teeth and crawled over to his trunk. He had put the little bag McGonagall had given him in there rather carelessly. Maybe he would skim over his new books first to see if they actually held things that were of interest and still new to him. Harry did not have to search for long, as it lay right on top of everything else. All Harry needed to do was a little enlargening. It was his luck that he had practiced that one beforehand. He would not like it very much to have to think of an excuse why his school books were now either so small that they would never be found or successfully hit with a functioning enlarging charm, or why they had been ripped to shreds.

Harry did not want to tempt fate, so he started easy. He took one of the small books out, held it curiously between two fingers and grinned. It had just the right size for that Ginny-doll of Sinje's.

On this one single book his charm worked rather well, though it was still hard to concentrate his magic, especially with the things Tom could come up with at any time. This time, Harry did not bother to use his wand. He sighed. That was just another topic he needed to look into before the year was over. Wandless magic.

Finally having enough of doing things the small way, Harry gripped the bag to have a better aim for his magic without lifting it up and enlarged the whole thing at once. It was easily done. The more power he could actually put into a spell, the less need for him to hold back what was too much and the less danger to screw up when his concentration lessened or was – as of now – otherwise occupied.

Harry was somewhat curious what books they had this year. He hoped that Brado did not have his own band of books full of accomplishments other people had done. What fell into his line of view though was something else.

It was with a sad smile that Harry took out his Firebolt. Right, Dumbledore had said that he could keep it, even if he could not play anymore. Before nostalgia could come up, Harry shoved the broom under his bed. He was sure that a fast broom could come in handy; at least he would need it if he did not have it within reach anymore. Harry would bet on that.

With a last glance towards it Harry turned back to the books and piled them up very neatly. Hermione would be proud of him. He paged through them with only half an eye. He already knew most of the spell work and charms, though he would still need to read on about bits of the theory. Harry just knew to cast them and the result they brought when it succeeded as well as when it failed. Vernon had proven that alright.

The potions book was the only one he did not even glance at. As soon as he had figured it out it wandered back in his trunk. Harry did not intend to pacify the old coot by actually studying that subject. Snape had agreed – as voluntarily as that may have been – to take Harry into the class, and he should see that the cauldron stayed in one piece. It was not Harry's to worry about ruined potions. The more the better in his opinion.

Half an hour later Harry was biting his lip in concentration, his steadily pounding headache pushed back into the back of his mind a continuous companion and reminder that he had no time to waste. Leaning back at the bedpost with a parchment propped up on his knees, Harry tried to think of everything that needed looking into. He actually made two lists, one for himself with everything important and split into first and second priority, and another one with those topics he could possibly persuade Hermione to look at inconspicuously.

He read over it a few times and when he could not think of something else he held it back and found that he would not even have time to attend meals and go to classes, not to mention that he would probably get little to no sleep during the whole year if he wanted to actually research everything he had written down. Harry shook his head and forced himself to stop thinking about failure. Last but not least Harry put a simple illusionment charm onto the parchment. Now it read in rather untidy handwriting _'Quidditch moves for Seekers'_. That was even simpler than an engorgement charm, not because it took more power, but because Harry had used it much often this summer to get into places where certain identifications were necessary. Grinning, Harry helped himself up and put the parchment onto his bedside table. Where better to hide something than in plain sight? It was not as if he had dozens of enchanted parchments lying around so that someone would get suspicious.

Harry glanced at the watch. Breakfast must be over by now. Maybe he could meet up with his still to be friends in front of the great hall, though he would rather take an aspirin or something like that, not that a pill would help against Tom. He propped himself up against the bedpost when the world suddenly spun. Harry had to wait a moment until the dizziness dissipated, before he was able to set a foot in front of another. As he did not want to use the walls for support – not after what had happened last night when he touched it – Harry would need to be on safe feet before he could leave the dormitory.

Harry was very cautious in where he set his feet. He took his time to go down and past the stupid portrait. He was already halfway down to the great hall without having seen even one person when he heard rather loud voices discussing something they obviously disagreed about. Harry nearly turned around to use another way when he heard his name mentioned rather forcefully along with a rather colorful description of his qualities. Harry had never been able to help himself in situations similar. Tom didn't matter in this one. Harry really wanted to know what Snape was getting off from. Harry peered around the corner; careful to keep his hands away from anything that was Hogwarts.

He smirked when it got clear that his head of house was already trying to get Snape to give her the NEWTs lesson plan for potions. McGonagall could be very stubborn if she wanted to. Harry was sure that she would eventually wear down even Snape, even though he gave in only to be left alone in the end. It was good to know that he had at least one ally in this gigantic castle, not that Harry would ever tell her anything important. He doubted that she would believe him if he told her that her worshipped headmaster was nothing more than a shifty bastard playing god with the lives of people who trusted him infinitely.

Harry flinched when he felt the magic moving within him and jerked back as not to give himself away. Breathing deeply, he leaned against the wall, always keeping his hands to himself. Tom had certainly a way to attack in the worst possible moments. It was not a full power attack. On a scale of one to ten this would be a four – distracting and to a certain degree accompanied by a biting pain, but nothing for which to fear for his control. It was rather mild, though unpleasant. Harry had come accustomed to worse during last night. It was relatively easy to get this under control. As long as Tom did not use more of his strength, Harry could live with it. He bit his teeth, bore the pain and concentrated on Snape's ranting.

He listened in with a certain amount of glee. This part seemed to go all right and in the end Harry was sure that he would find himself pressured into private tutoring lessons by a twinkling old coot who thought he had gotten one over Harry. However, there was no better way to keep Snape occupied than to give him something he could bite his teeth off trying to riddle out and along the way Harry would hopefully get an opportunity to find out how the greasy git had managed to make Voldemort believe that he was to be trusted not to mention the fact how he managed to prevent Voldemort from seeing the truth within his mind.

Harry blinked when he realized that McGonagall was already leaving with a look that would freeze the students in their seats would she use that in class. It did not bother Snape. Obviously she had decided this fight lost and opted for an orderly retreat to go into the next even better prepared. Harry was lucky that she was not going this way or she would not have been oblivious to his presence much longer.

Harry closed his eyes. New waves of pain made his heart beat erratically. This was good for a seven on his personal scale. Harry blinked surprised, caught up in his world of pain, when a sneering voice called out to him.

"Did you think you could hide?" Snape sounded very short tempered today. "Come out, Potter, and ten points from Gryffindor for listening in to a private conversation between your professors."

Harry clenched his teeth and stepped gingerly around the corner. Now, this time he had really done nothing wrong. He blinked when his vision became blurred. The longer the attack continued the harder it was to keep the barrier at its strongest.

"It's not my fault you talk about …private matters in the corridors." The tone of voice and Harry's expression indicated rather …personal private matters. Snape would sure as hell think that by this time tomorrow there was a rumour going around that he secretly met with the head of house of Gryffindor. There was no better thing to get the man angry.

"Fifty points for being – again – where you have nothing to do. And if you're not out of my sight in a second I'll promise you a very unpleasant evening in the dungeons, Potter." Dark eyes narrowed down to slits when the arrogant boy just tried to stare him down rather stupidly instead of hurrying away.

That was certainly a first. Harry blinked himself free of Tom (somewhat). Snape did never give warnings to him; he just handed out the detention and – bang! Be there or die. Harry bit the inside of his cheeks to keep from actually whimpering. A nine on his scale and time to be gone.

"Do you need to be somewhere?" Short tempered and distracted, Harry did not really care or listen or have the patience to smile and bear quietly.

An eyebrow quirked incredulously. "You want to have a detention, you arrogant whelp?" The voice was icy and the look could cut steel, but he tried to scare Harry Potter to no avail when the boy simply stared back too far off to care. "So be it."

From moment to moment Harry found it harder to concentrate on Snape's voice. The pain did not lessen; the pressure on the shields grew steadily. Harry was hardly able to stand without letting on that he was on his feet due to his will alone.

"Sunday at seven. Be sure to be on time, Potter, otherwise I'll promise that Gryffindor won't get out of the hole it's fallen into because of your ego until the end of the year."

Harry blinked. His sight got foggier by the minute. The points did not really register in Harry's mind, but his ego? His? What was with Snape's ego? Harry opened his mouth to retort, but Snape himself rescued him from having his research even more cut down because he had to sit through half a year of everyday detention. With his cloak billowing Snape strode away forcefully. Of course the git needed to have the last word.

Harry watched him go and saw just out of the corner of his eye, before the man vanished out of his sight, that he had clenched his left hand to a white knuckled fist and he remembered that not even once during their little argument had the man held his left hand in any other way.

Stupid Dark Mark. Harry would have to read up on that one too. There had to be a way to close it down until he needed it. Snape had never felt before when Voldemort and he had another row going on as long as Voldemort had been the one to control it.

Harry balled his fists and took his attention back to where it should be. Tom was getting unbearable again and this time it promised to be bad. He just wanted to find a dark corner to curl up in, when a disapproving voice called him back. Harry clenched his teeth to keep from swearing out loud.

"It's your own fault, Harry." Hermione practically tried to stare him into the ground. "Professor Snape was already on his way when you started to … talk back to him."

Harry frowned. The git had looked slightly miffed about something, but was it Harry's fault that the bastard wore his mood around like a moth-infested cloak? He tilted his head and tried an appreciative smile. After all it was time to cool down from his talk with Dumbledore, but he had foregone the good night's sleep Harry had hoped to get.

"What were you arguing with him anyway?" She looked him up and down with a dark frown. "We're even without you going out on your way to lose points in the negative, Harry." They had to come back from breakfast just in time to hear the last flippant words in the argument between Snape and Harry.

"Huh…?" Harry heard her voice going on and off without actually understanding a single word. She had to get all bossy right now? Harry shook his head and turned to Ron. "What's with her?" he asked as if the girl with her fists at her hips was not there. "Did you put something in her drink or what?" Harry tried to seem at ease, but he noticed the slight tremor his voice was having. Ron snorted but knew better than to answer.

A sudden wave of pain made Harry lose his footing when Tom increased the strength by a multitude and his vision tunnelled down to a small speck of light before he got hold of his body again to find himself at the end of two worried pairs of eyes, Ron halfway down to give him a hand should he fall.

"I'm getting a bit dizzy," Harry murmured uncomfortably. "I'm more hungry than I thought." He shrugged noncommittally and grinned weakly. "I hoped to catch up with you in time before you'd finished your desserts."

"Oh! No need for that, mate." Ron grinned and pulled a wrinkled packet out of his robe. "I wanted to go to the kitchen, you know, but Hermione thought this might be enough breakfast for you." Wrapped up in a napkin Harry found miniaturized croissants and some bread rolls covered with cheese and bacon. Harry wanted to vomit just looking at them.

"Thanks, Ron. That's great." He ignored their worried frowns.

"Yeah, well, Hermione shrunk them when no one was looking. It's enough, though, isn't it?"

"Yes, quite." Careful not to squash the food, Harry folded the napkin back and shoved it into a trouser pocket that was big enough for a dozen trucks to find a parking place.

He looked up and found Hermione holding a letter out to him. Curiously, Harry gripped it and looked down to the green ink his name was written in.

"He gave you this during breakfast?"

"Actually, no." Hermione shook her head. "We met Professor McGonagall on our way here. She gave us the letter and said that we should give it to you with best greetings from the headmaster." She could barely refrain her curiosity from showing.

That his fingers trembled when he opened the parchment may have something to happen with his newly rising anger at Dumbledore. He believed, though, that it was his efforts showing to simply keep standing without crying out in pain. At first Harry thought that the letter had something to do with what they talked about yesterday, but it just seemed to be a totally different plot from the old fool. Harry stared at the letter incredulously. What was it with Dumbledore? Could he have not told him yesterday instead of just ordering him now? They had been in the same room for hours.

Harry glared darkly, before he crumpled the parchment in his tight grip. He drew a deep breath to start another rant of what he thought of their headmaster, but instead he gasped in pain. That, now, was a ten on his scale. It was not only hurting anymore, it was agonizing torture. He nearly lunged for the wall for support, and changed his mind only in the last instant.

"Excuse me a minute, guys," he pressed out throatily. "I need to see Dumbledore." Without waiting for an answer Harry rushed off, calling back that he would catch up with them later in the tower and hoped they would not follow him.

Hermione and Ron looked at each other and watched him stomping off with mixed feelings. To Harry's relief, they made their way to the common room, looking back now and again to figure out what was going on.

The moment they left and Harry found himself out of their sight he stopped, slipped into a dark niche and curled himself up tightly to a small ball, doing everything in his power to just make it stop.

He did not waste his strength to suppress the tremors that shook his body; the small whimpers that passed his tightly clenched teeth barely registered within his mind. He needed to be alerted to every move Tom was making now. Trying to shut out the pain, Harry concentrated inwards. He pushed back against the shields from his side of the barrier, ignoring the wildly roaring magic and the pounding of his blood in his ears. Tom would not win this. Never.


	36. Chapter 35 : Chin Up

**Title:** Harry Potter and the Summer's Secret

_**Author:** Japhu_

_**Beta Reader:** Nagi_

_**Pairing:** HPSS_

_**Rating:** R_

_**Disclaimer:** I own nothing of Harry Potter and his world and don't make any money with it._

_**Summary:** For one week in summer Harry disappears without trace. When he comes back he claims to have no memory. But something happened and it changed him. It remains to be seen if for the better or the worse. (will be HPSS)_

_**Category:** action/adventure/angst_

_**Feedback:** highly appreciated_

_**A/N: **Thank you all for reviewing._

_Toki Mirage: You'll have to wait and see. ;)_

_The Wyrd Sister: I'd say it will be a long story, but as I tend to be wrong it will probably be a loooong story. I'm honestly not sure (not everything is going to plan and plot), but looking at my notes I'd say we have just stepped out of the front door. So yes, safe them if you want to._

_Tanaraza: Some runes will certainly need to be drawn, but let's see what Harry finds out first; maybe I'm wrong. If my best friend were scarce more than normal I'd wait a day or two to see if she gets her problem solved on her own (as she obviously wants to when she doesn't come to me for help). Only after that I'd bind her to a chair and tickle out what she's trying to hide, so I don't think they're blind, but hoping he confides in them without being tickled to death first. _

* * *

**Chapter 35 – Chin Up **

When Harry crept out of his hiding place he felt like death warmed over, but it had been a success. He was still himself, though he could not possibly say for how long he was going to remain this way if this fight kept going on for much longer. Tom was at least just as stubborn as Harry. Harry did not think for one moment that Tom would just stop now when Harry was barely being able to keep the status quo. The same way Harry knew how much of his magic Tom actually put into an attack Tom would be able to say of Harry. His headache did not diminish either.

Harry was weary of mind and heart when he straightened himself. Then he stepped into the common room, certain that Ron and Hermione were waiting for him anxiously to explain his rush almost an hour ago. And he was right. His friends' eyes followed him searchingly while he made his way over to them. Harry slumped into the armchair with a heavy sigh of relief, overusing it to make it seem as if he was not nearly as drained as he felt. His legs were especially lucky not to have to carry his weight around anymore.

"Are you all right, Harry?" Hermione was the first one break the silence.

"Yes." He scratched his head sheepishly. "It was just another dizzy spell."

"You nearly fell flat on your face!" came the cool objection right back and a frown settled on Hermione's face when Harry simply shrugged her worries away with the grin that he seemed to think opened all the doors for him.

"You did eat the food, didn't you?" Ron sounded as if he already regretted having given it to Harry, though he too could not prevent a bit of worry from showing through.

"Yep, sorry." Harry pulled a face. "I ate it on my way to Dumbledore." Actually Harry had thrown it away. Food was not a thought that agreed with him as of yet. "It helped me think." Harry leaned back and closed his eyes with a moan that was only half for show.

"What did he say?" Hermione again. She was too curious for her own good.

"I wasn't seeing him." Harry returned Hermione's gaze regally. "I stopped on the way and came, after long and difficult thinking, to the conclusion that he would just shove his lemon drops in my face and push me right back out of the door."

"I see." She sounded analytical. "Where have you been all this time?"

"Am I under cross-examination or something?" Harry crossed his arms. "It may come as a surprise to you, but I can hold my temper. I cooled down before I even reached his corridor. You might want to congratulate me, by the way. By the end of this year I'd imagine I'll be rather good at that." His eyes laughed to take the hurtful brunt out of his words, and Hermione smiled tentatively back at him to say the message was received. It would not be good to have another row just after their minds had cooled down somewhat.

"Well, what did Dumbledore want in his letter?" Ron asked rather bluntly.

"Something," Harry said. "Something you don't know."

Ron grimaced. "That's somehow obvious, isn't it?" He was not really in the mood to bear Harry's attitude, still looking at him from the side to see if he would fall on his face anytime soon.

"You don't appreciate it, Ron. It doesn't happen often that I know something that you don't know!" Suddenly Harry grinned. "Ha. Let's play!" he said with obvious delight, but Ron only looked confused.

"Play what?"

"I know something that you don't know!"

"What?" Ron resembled a mooncalf very well with his open mouth and staring eyes. "Can't you talk in a way that ordinary folk can understand you?"

"It's a child's play in the Muggle world." Hermione caught on.

"Huh?"

"I have to think of something we both know," Harry explained playfully, yesterday's anger forgotten. "She has three goes to find out whatever it is, if she doesn't after the third time I can set her a task she's going to have to do. If she does, she gets to tell me what to do. The only difficulty is that I have to pack my hints in rhymes sort of." Harry grinned.

"Okay, let's do a round. Hermione?"

"All right Harry, I just wanted to finish this essay."

"Take a break, girl. Come on." Harry shut her book and smiled charmingly. "Do you want to hear my first hint?"

Sighing, Hermione turned up her nose. "All right, Harry." She set herself properly to listen. "Tell me. Don't forget the rhyme, though."

"My first hint: It's something crazy, not always real, it does as it likes no matter you feel."

Ron blinked stupidly, but Hermione wore a thoughtful frown.

"Time?"

"Wrong answer. Two to go." Harry grinned. Hermione was much too much intelligent. Her thought pattern was too complex. Maybe Ron would have a better chance to riddle it out. "Here's my second: It's twinkling with knowledge, it's starry and bright, but are you to oppose it you'll have to hide."

"That's easy. Stars."

"No, Hermione." Harry frowned. "It is a long time since you played that, isn't it?" At Hermione's questioning gaze he elaborated: "You have forgotten to take the first hint into account."

"I did not! Stars are not always what we see, you know? A lot of them aren't even there anymore, though we still see them or think we do."

"Well, okay. I'll give you that."

"Now tell me your last hint." She seemed eager to get it over with so she could go back to her essay.

Complying her wishes, Harry began. "Sometimes you'd think it, but there is more, that the thing I look at is as dumb as a door."

"Oh that's not fair, Harry!" It took her less than ten seconds to come up with the answer. "That's not giving a hint, that's called telling the answer." For once she was angrier about the fact that Harry had made it that easy, than being angry about badmouthing a teacher – the headmaster even.

"Sorry. The answer?"

"Dumbledore, of course."

Ron scoffed. "Great rhyming, Harry. But I'll stay with chess. It works your mind without having to think of some crazy lines."

"Did you never hear the saying that the way is the goal?"

"No," Ron said bluntly and Harry shrugged.

"Well, then not. Let's go play chess." He drew a deep breath. They could say what they wanted; Harry just did not like Dumbledore anymore. The whisper that warned him to stay on his guard with that old twinkler was not dissipating – far from it; after the talk it only got more urgent. However, this silly game certainly had put their attention to other things. Inwardly, Harry gave himself a pat on the back when Hermione opened her book; though he delayed it as she did not read just then but instead looked over to where Ron and Harry set the figures up.

"Oh, and Harry?" A pawn in his hand, the dark haired boy looked at her from over the rim of his glasses. "Your task is to stop badmouthing the headmaster and to tell us what Professor Dumbledore wanted from you."

Blinking, Harry set the pawn on his rightfully earned field, before looking back to Hermione. "You can give only one task, Hermione."

She was visibly split. "Then tell us what was in the letter." She frowned demandingly and clapped her book shut with an unusual show of aggressiveness. Harry grinned.

"I'm glad you chose this one." His teeth showed at Hermione's confused expression as he fumbled to fish the crumbled parchment out of his pocket.

"You are?" she asked uncertainly.

"Of course. I'd be hard pressed to say something nice about that old man." And he pressed the letter in her hands. "It's not as if he'd tell me a secret or something." He shrugged. "I have simply been given notice to meet with Madam Pomfrey some time today. They want to check if someone put me under curses or some such nonsense." He snorted.

"Because no one knows if something happened. It's only prudent to see if something's wrong." Hermione read over the short note, nodded thoughtfully and gave it back. Harry thought that it would have been much better if they had done that straight away after he had come back from his week's absence, not that he would point that out to Hermione, who seemed to be in total agreement with the headmaster. So Harry shrugged and turned back to Ron, who was waiting impatiently for him to make his next move, rather put out by Hermione that she interrupted the flow of the game.

"It says that Madam Pomfrey's waiting for you to show up for the check up."

"I know." Harry's hand hovered over a bishop, but at Ron's widening grin he pulled his hand back and set a pawn instead. However, there was no way to win this when he was with his full mind on the game, there was no chance to win when Harry did do everything not to fall over, tired from a sleepless night and exhausted from constant pain and an overly magical exertion.

"Why are you not going now?" Hermione watched him expectantly. "Then you have it done."

"Now?" Harry looked from her to Ron and pointed to the chessboard. "I'd rather not. I have to give Ron a scare at first." Ron glanced at him incredulously, but that was not Harry's problem. Tom was still there, gathering himself for a new round in a fight that seemed strangely even balanced. Harry feared what should happen if he did not find the time or possibility to get himself out of other people's sight when the next attack came or what Pomfrey might find when she put him under a scan. However, in some way Hermione was right. Momentarily Tom was rather quiet, though the way this day had gone until now there was no guarantee that it would stay such. So why not now? Harry would not find a way to prevent Pomfrey's scans in the evening.

"All right." Harry shrugged. "After we have finished this game." With an agreeing nod Hermione turned back to her book. She knew as well as Harry that this game of chess would be over in less than five minutes if Ron set his mind to it.

"Hurry, Ron, before Harry thinks of something else he'd rather do."

"Give a man a break, Hermione." Ron glowered at her. "You're taking away all the fun of beating Harry if I'm not even allowed to do it slowly." Harry grinned and two minutes later he was beaten soundly. Feeling Hermione's intent gaze on him, Harry stood up with a sigh. He moved slowly to prevent himself tripping over his feet.

"Well, I guess I'll go then." He still did not want to, but Dumbledore had not asked, he had ordered, so good little Harry did what he was ordered to do.

"I'll go with you." Her book snapped shut. She had just waited for Harry to get a move on. Harry frowned at her.

"Yeah, well, then I'm coming too."

"Don't you have to do your homework? I didn't see you doing the DADA essay."

"Oh, come down, Hermione." Both boys threw her a look that for once managed to shut her up quite well. "You aren't mother of anyone here." Her cheeks tinged pink, but she did not have another objection to Ron coming along. Harry closed his mouth. He guessed that she had wanted to grill him about something or other. Sometimes she really could be a pain in the ass, but had she always been this obvious? He would do well to remember to make Ron his shadow for the days to come when she did not want him within hearing range she would not start with him there.

The walk towards the hospital wing was a quiet affair. Ron and Hermione had taken Harry into the middle, the former talking about Quidditch, and the latter glancing at him searchingly whenever he gave one of his nonchalant comments. Only when Ron asked him if he would try for captain Harry chose to cough out loud to clear his throat rather than starting a new topic that was in for high temper in the hallways about why he still was not allowed to play.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief when they entered the corridor to the infirmary. His friends were already too much for his nerves. The headache would be his death and Pomfrey's questions were not going to help either. Still, everything was better than his friends bearing down the strength Tom had not managed to. Harry would have denied it, but he all but ran the last meters to the infirmary. It was high time to take a breath, and foremost to find a place to sit down so his legs would stop trembling.

"Madam Pomfrey." Harry sat down on the bed that should have pinned his nametag above the head post. "Professor Dumbledore said you're waiting for me?"

With narrowed eyes the woman stepped away from her sideboard full of potions and other stuff she needed to heal the minor complaints of the general student body and came down onto him like a bird that had founds its prey. In front of Harry she stopped, watching him intently before she jerked around to his friends.

"You two wait outside." Neither one of his friends moved. "Out, now. I don't need you loitering around. Or do you have a problem? Do you need to take a potion?" Ron grimaced and shook his head. Most potions came from Snape's stores and those should never be swallowed without the real need behind.

"No thanks, Madam Pomfrey." He pulled at Hermione's robe. "We'll wait outside." Ron pulled the hesitant girl behind.

"He nearly lost consciousness, Madam Pomfrey." Hermione told her with calculating eyes and worry shining through.

"Is that so, Potter?"

"I'm just feeling a bit dizzy," he announced with a murderous glare at Hermione. He was glad to see that even Ron pulled her further with much more vigor, his glare at least as dark as Harry's. Then Ron was gone, Hermione still in his grip with a halfway apologizing glance at Harry. There would be no hard feelings between them. Harry knew she had done that because she worried, but even though he would not hold it against her – not openly – he would not forget it either. He nodded to her, smiled and turned back to his inquisitor when the door fell close behind her.

"I missed breakfast and didn't have much for dinner yesterday, either. That's all, Ma'am." Harry did not even attempt his Gryffindor smile. What worked with McGonagall was useless with this old dragon. He grimaced and tried not to let on that his head was splitting open and the dull thud of the blood in his ears was back.

"Are you trying to starve yourself, Potter?" Pomfrey grumbled all the while she waved her wand about him, her eyes keen on the results that floated in the air next to her.

"Er… No?" Harry suppressed a nervous cough. That woman had nearly worse a temper than Ron. She was not a person to cross without later regretting it. Harry had never been easy around her, so she was not too suspicious that something was off – not yet anyway. At her dark look Harry shook his head with more conviction.

"No, Ma'am. Of course not." He shrugged sheepishly. "I had a rather …intense conversation with headmaster Dumbledore, though." He grimaced and held his breath, never leaving her wand out of his sight that still pointed straight at him. "We talked about Voldemort and stuff like that. You know, that's not really encouraging any appetite I might have had." He pulled a face to underline that thought.

"Well, Potter, that's understandable, but be certain to attend lunch and dinner in time today. I can't find any curses you could have caught during summer, so you're nearly ready to leave." Her eyes narrowed even more when Harry's lips twitched maybe with too much relief showing through before he pulled his brows together.

"Nearly?" Harry fidgeted nervously.

"There's this little burn on your shoulder, Potter. I'd like to have a look onto that before you're making yourself rare again."

"Oh, that." Harry shrugged off his robe and T-shirt and glanced at his shoulder. If he concentrated he felt it hurting, but not as much as yesterday. Or maybe his headache was simply lots worse and deadened him to any other pain. It still looked gross, though.

"Whatever did you try to do, Potter?"

"I was trying to make breakfast." Harry shrugged. "I wanted to do it like the cooks in the television shows, you know." He gave a sad sigh. "They throw it up and catch it with the pan after it turned in the air. I guess there's a reason they do it with pancakes and not with bacon, isn't there?" She gazed down at him to make sure he did not try to make fun of her, then she nodded, though her look was still not lightening while she put some burn-healing paste onto the small injury. She waited a moment to see if it took effect, and the blisters vanished so fast you could watch them doing so.

"That would be number one, Potter." She put her hands at her hips and Harry barely refrained from flinching back when she moved suddenly to take his chin into her hand, turning his head to the left, the right and back again. Then she sat down next to him and scrutinized him darkly, worry increased the wrinkles on her forehead. She still did not ask too many questions, but now she seemed to expect Harry to tell her on his own, but what?

"Ma'am?" Harry blinked uncertainly, fast to fish for his T-shirt to feel more on an even level and to get the hell out of her grip, though she still stared at him in that unpleasant way.

"You are aware that everything we talk about here is under medical secrecy? Beyond the fact that I found no curses put upon you by any lord I'm not obliged to tell Professor Dumbledore anything of what is going on as long as a student life is not in danger." Harry swallowed. He did not have to fake his weariness. "You look quite weary around the eyes, Potter. Although I'm certain that's not a curse your exhaustion goes above a simple …loss of appetite."

"Ma'am?" Harry tried to think fast.

"A good night's sleep will bring you back to health soon enough, but your magic is dangerously drained, Potter." Harry gazed at his shoulder. The paste was gone and the burn only a red patch of skin like it had been on the first day. He was aware that the mediwitch was waiting for an answer, but Harry was at a loss. What did she expect him to have done to himself to get into such a state voluntarily?

"Your scans said that?" Harry shrugged into his T-shirt, using the moment when he was buried in the cloth to get his expression under control.

"I understand that you're under high pressure, Potter. Your situation is clearly special and not to be taken lightly, but you mustn't let that mislead you."

Harry clasped his hand, looking guilty and as if he knew what she was talking about. She might think his hands trembling was a sign of this magical exhaustion she was talking about, though Harry really did not feel exhausted, just tense as a steel nib, highly alert and ready to pounce at the slightest hint of danger. To have her all worried and caring was giving him creeps. This must really be serious. If he just knew what she was waiting for him to say. He doubted that she would let him leave anytime soon otherwise. Harry opened his mouth and closed it with a sigh. To confess a mistake he had made was never easy, especially not if he did not know what that mistake could possibly have been.

"You're not the first one to press for early maturity, Potter." She sat down next to him. "During my career I have seen similar cases as yours."

"Oh!" Harry looked up at her curiously. You could actually do that? Then he blinked. "You have?" Harry really doubted that.

"What you're doing with your magic is highly dangerous, Potter." Her gaze was intent to see if Harry was actually aware of the danger.

"It is?" Harry would have to search for some books on early maturity. Maybe he could get his full powers a bit early. At least he would possibly be able to control the magic he had a bit better than he managed currently.

"Mr. Potter!" It did not sit well with her that the boy did take the danger so lightly.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am. I was doing some …experimenting. I've read something about wizards' maturity and, well …" His shoulders drooped.

"Things like that have to come naturally, Potter." Now as it seemed that Harry actually saw the fault in his doings she was no longer scowling at him.

"I know, Ma'am. I won't try to find out how long it might be until I hit my maturity. I swear." He gazed pleadingly up at her when she scrutinized him doubtfully. "And I won't try to bring it about by force either."

"Yes. We will have some serious talking to do, should that not be the case, Potter."

"I understand, Ma'am." Harry bowed his head.

"I hope so, Potter. A wizard's maturity is no thing to play with, remember that. In older times, when we had not so good a watch over children, it happened that some died if they came too soon or too suddenly into their power." Harry frowned.

"But I thought that it comes naturally." He tilted his head. "Didn't you just say that?" He blinked innocently to prevent an angry retort.

"A shock, something life threatening or any other situation where the child's magic is …open to magic can sometimes lead to a too early release. The growing body is not able to hold the new power. Most of these children never learn to control their magic. If their magic is especially strong they might die. As I said, Potter," she handed him a vial filled with a gooey, mud colored substance, "things like that are nothing you should play with."

Put neatly back into his place, Harry nodded and swallowed in silence. He had a lot to think about. It was a pity that she had not come out and downright told him how you could actually 'press for early maturity'. Maybe he had gone through his maturity already. It had not killed him, so it was all right. Harry would surely get past this control thing. He just hoped it was all, and that it had really been his maturity, released before its time due of that mad man …mad snake. Harry shook his head.

"Can I go now, Madam Pomfrey?" He followed her every movement when she pulled out her wand again.

"A moment, Potter. I'd like to see if that Potion worked correctly."

"Er… what was that, by the way?" Harry grimaced. "It tasted horrible."

"A new invention of Professor Snape. A modification of Pepperup Potion combined with a general Healing draught and the necessary nutrients your body needs to recuperate." Harry frowned darkly. "But I'm sure you're not that interested in potions." The stern woman really looked as if she could barely contain her smile. It must be all around the school – well, at least the staff – that McGonagall tried to get Snape to teach the son of James Potter in Potions.

"That's strange." Another minute later a frown settled onto her face.

"What is?" Harry would rather not try all of his luck at once.

"How are you feeling, Potter?"

"Fine." Harry shrugged.

"In any way better than before you took that potion?"

"Er …" There really was no need to lie. She knew the answer already. "No, Ma'am."

"This potion should have taken effect immediately. Here Potter." She gave him another vial. "That's a Pepperup Potion as you know it. I can't give you anything else right now."

"I don't have a cold, Ma'am," Harry objected.

"It's not only for colds, Potter." She smiled tightly. "Swallow that and you're free to meet your friends. And no more experimenting, Mr. Potter."

"Yes, Ma'am. I won't do that again." Harry did as she wanted under her watchful eyes without protesting once and made as fast as he could to get out of the infirmary. He was still slipping back into his robes when he was already on his way out of the hospital wing, Ron and Hermione hot on his heals.

"I really don't like that place." He shuddered. "I have nothing against Madam Pomfrey, but I'd rather not have to see her again."

When the door closed Madam Pomfrey was still staring at the place where Harry had been. Had Harry not been in such a hurry to get away from her and her scans he would have noticed that there had been no sign of steam coming from his ears, as there should have been after swallowing a whole vial of Pepperup Potion. But then, Harry was not too keen on potions, so maybe he would still not have noticed that this potion did not work any better than the one before.

Harry found it rather interesting that the mediwitch had said nothing about his headache. The pain was also nothing physical, otherwise she would have caught an echo with her scans, at least Harry thought so. Stupid Tom. It felt much too much physical.


	37. Chapter 36 : Frightening Changes

**Title:** Harry Potter and the Summer's Secret

_**Author:** Japhu _

_**Beta Reader:** Nagi_

_**Pairing:** HPSS_

_**Rating:** R_

_**Disclaimer:** I own nothing of Harry Potter and his world and don't make any money with it._

_**Summary:** For one week in summer Harry disappears without trace. When he comes back he claims to have no memory. But something happened and it changed him. It remains to be seen if for the better or the worse. (will be HPSS)_

_**Category:** action/adventure/angst_

_**Feedback:** highly appreciated_

_**A/N:** Thank you very much for your reviews!_

* * *

**Chapter 36 – Frightening Changes**

Lunch found Harry bright and glassy eyed. He felt quite well for once. His headache was not overpowering anymore, and even though it took just as much of his strength to keep Tom contained, it was with a lighter mind that Harry could work on this problem. It was not easier done, but he could breath again as pain did not matter anymore. He still felt it in some way, but now it was easy to bear. He knew it was there and even increasing, but it was far away and did not bother him.

A new challenge from Tommy boy was just the thing he needed. A rather evil grin threatened to break out when the three of them just reached the entrance hall and Harry stopped, a thoughtful frown on his face.

"I need to pee, guys." He grinned like the imp he felt he was.

"But… lunch?" Ron frowned.

"You go and eat; I have to take care of something else before." He pointed to the lavatory. "If you don't see me by dinner time I'm stuck and I'd be glad if you'd get me out," Harry said to Ron, totally straight faced.

"Well, if you say so." Ron and Hermione exchanged glances.

"Are you sure you're alright, Harry?" They did not seem too certain about what they should think of the sudden change in attitude.

"Yep. Everything's all right, guys. Madam Pomfrey made me swallow some really gross concoctions from our resident bat." Harry suppressed a too bright smile. "I think he's trying to poison me. Ow!" He rubbed his arm where Hermione's fist had hit him and growled. "What's that for?"

"Don't joke about something like that." Her gaze narrowed. "Should we bring you back to the infirmary?"

"Don't you dare!" Harry's eyes widened. "I said I'm alright, didn't I? So leave it."

"We're just worried, Harry."

"I know, but still … leave it." Harry's dark glare turned into a grin right away. He was in high spirits. Whatever potion that had been, its effects were delayedbut itmade him feel great. Perhaps he should ask Snape for the formula when he was clear-headed enough to keep from saying something totally stupid.

With a last dark look toward his friends Harry watched as they made their way to the great hall. It could not sit well with them that Harry got rid of them so easily. Perhaps they had agreed to give him more space to get his anger out, though the more often Harry pushed them away the more hurt they looked. Harry had no time for that. As soon as they were gone, he hurried off, his smirk growing darker with every step he took towards his destination.

He was aiming for the Room of Requirement. In there he could be certain that no one would interrupt him. In there he could surely be safe from everything but Hogwarts itself. He did not trust the stone box any more than he trusted Snape or Dumbledore. All of them were meddling with him; all of them played their own game, and with Hogwarts Harry could not even begin to fathom what it was playing at.

Harry had not even got to the right hallway when a low buzzing, eerily whispering sound reached his ears. Tilting his head, Harry stopped in the midst of the corridor and tried to will his goose bumps down. It was as if he was surrounded by a mass of invisible ghosts and all of them were talking at once. It was a strange feeling, disquieting. When he concentrated on a single voice it was as if trying to listen to someone speaking under water, and it pulled him further down a dark tunnel. Harry shook his head.

Harry knew he was not in his best state as of yet. Maybe he heard the beetles traipsing. The potion, whatever it had been, did obviously not work as it was supposed to. Harry doubted that the old mediwitch would make him … well, high, deliberately, but at the same time Harry knew deep down that he would not be able to stand without that feeling of … detachment that had come upon him along with emotional giddiness when he walked with his friends down to the great hall. With each step he felt strangely revitalized, the magic bubbled tantalizingly within him; and Tom gathered himself for a new attempt to break free from his confinement. It was all right. Harry felt as if he could stomp mountains into the ground.

Harry blinked and forced himself away from those almost inaudible whispers.

The few students passing him gave him wide berth; no one seemed to hear anything out of the ordinary. Maybe that was a side effect of the potion, to hear voices that were not there, like hallucinations of a sort. However, Harry feared the moment when the potion wore off. If Tom was still running against the barriers the way he was doing it now then Harry would be in deep shit.

He would rather hear imaginary voices than be dead and hear nothing at all. Harry bit his lip to keep from giggling like some loony meathead.

Hell, this year was going to be crazy. Not even the first week was over and already he stumbled from one mess right into the next. Should all this come from one potion, he would visit Madam Pomfrey to get some more – or maybe not. Harry shook himself awake. He was still not getting to the room any faster. Forcing his feet to move, Harry felt Tom preparing to attack. Slowly but certainly he was getting a feeling for Tom and his magic, and it was time again to get out of the way of any wandering students or – heaven forefend – teachers.

The dust-covered classroom Harry slipped into when there was no one in sight had, in his time at Hogwarts, never been used by someone other than the sporadic lovebird that needed a secret meeting place when the astronomy tower was already occupied by stargazers. Harry closed the door, put locking and silencing charm over the room – one never knew what could happen – and sat down cross-legged between the teacher's desk and the first row of students' tables.

Harry folded his hands, lest they touched the stone ground unintentionally, and closed his eyes. His breath was deep and steady. Tom was getting more forward by the minute, and now Harry was ready to play. It was still hard to accomplish and somewhere Harry knew that he would have to pay for this later – when the potion wore off and pain and exhaustion caught up with him, not a mere remembrance but perceptible in every cell. However, this would be worth it – he would make it so.

He was unaware that his lips twitched in anticipation before a smirk settled down the moment he paid Tom back for the trouble he had caused. Not once would he give mercy. Tom had shown him what he had to do to make him feel the most pain, the most desperation and fear. This was a lesson Harry would not forget and he would make sure that as long as even one breath of Tom remained in this world the bastard would bear in mind what Harry could do just as well as he (even when he needed a potion to cut down his fear and to take away the pain).

Like a firestorm over dry grassland Harry's magic burnt its way at once to the place where Tom was gathering his own power. Eyes closed, Harry sat on the ground, listening to the buzz of magic inside of his head. He knew exactly when the moment was right for payback, and his body shook with force when the power exploded within him. He held nothing back for defense. Everything he had was pushed in his own attack to bring the message home once and for all. He would not wait for Tom to break out. He would fight and make it as hard as he could.

Harry had all but a small advantage because he actually held the shields that prevented Tom his freedom. Harry just needed to keep back the power to uphold it when everything was over. The potion would not hold forever. Harry felt it already leaving his body; slowly but steadily the exhaustion and weariness would come back to him. If then Tom was not so readily stepped into the ground that he would stay there for at least some hours, Harry was finished.

Harry did not like pain or to cause other people pain, but when Tom started to scream in rage and fear, he could not help but laugh. If Harry could have seen himself he would step back in surprise as his whole body seemed to glow with an eerie, translucent violet light that flickered in an impalpable breeze.

Minutes or hours passed; it did not matter to Harry as he slumped finally back to the ground with a trembling sigh, drained to the core but satisfied, because for once he had given just as much as he had taken. His heart pounded heavily in his chest, his hands were balled in fists as he tried to catch his breath, his eyes staring blindly at the ceiling. Harry wondered how it could be that he was still alive. Then the pain set in and Harry knew that the potion was wearing off and the slight smile that made his face seem to glow unearthly slid off his face like drops of rain. His eyes pressed tightly closed, Harry curled himself up. He pulled his robe around him and waited, somehow detached from everything, for his strength to return and the potion to wear off entirely. He was far too weak to do anything else.

His cheek pressed against the cool stone, it was only moments before his exhaustion led him into a deep and dreamless sleep and Harry thought that he now knew that they were truly at a draw in this fight. Whatever he tried, no matter how much magic he used, Harry could not overcome Tom. He was just tremendously relieved that Tom found himself in the same position.

Tendrils of magic swirled around the room like living beings. They impacted with the wall and sent tremors – for human senses unnoticeable – through the whole building, calling the being of Hogwarts into an greater awareness from wherever it had watched the going ons within its halls.

The castle had observed the clusters fight for dominance with interest and – if one could call it that – anticipation. It was long since that anything similar to this had happened, and it would not want to miss the outcome. The last one had been the fiercest, but with Hogwarts having taken the vast amount of uncontrolled energy; both clusters were the same of strength. Neither of them would win over the other if that did not change. This would go on forever, and though Hogwarts had all the time to wait even the castle knew impatience. It was all it existed for to bring its builders task to an end.

Hogwarts was not made to care for those things of little importance those coming and going swirling balls of energy occupied themselves with. Also it was engraved in every single stone of its walls that it was not to intervene directly but to observe and only to step in to fulfill its task. However, nothing said that it could not give back what it had taken, and this one cluster was everything it had searched for, but even a cluster as unique as this one would crumble while the wind of times swept its promise of power away.

For now though Hogwarts did no more than to send some strength back into the weak case that threatened to be ripped apart while the castle watched with a cool analyzing mind. It gave no more power than a speck of dust to prevent the magical core from dying off, and then it waited with bated breath as to not disturb it in its recuperation. Hogwarts needed to decide if it would really give back what it had taken (if only for a moment) to avoid further, quite unnecessary fighting.

However, even Hogwarts could not change the flow of nature. Two clusters as powerful as that would circle around each other only for so much time before it grew into something else. Before that happened though, the castle was aware that at some point the cluster of tainted energy would likely get lucky and win a fight – until the other's instincts took over and it fought to take back its position.

Some time later Harry stirred unsteadily. He could not remember how long he had been lying collapsed on the cold stone floor, though it must have been quite long for his legs to grow numb. Harry grimaced when the blood rushed back as he turned onto his back. Frowning, Harry stayed still until he thought his legs would bear his weight. The potion had left him drained but curiously he was not as weary from his use of magic as he had anticipated.

While he pushed himself thoughtfully up from the ground Harry noticed something else that threw him slightly off. He halted to watch and pressed his hand back onto the ground with new awareness before he grinned tiredly. He could feel nothing through the stone. If he did not know better he would believe that he had just imagined that there was more to it. Harry shook his head and brushed off the dust from his clothes with a glance around. His footsteps and traces of someone lying on the ground were still there. Sighing, Harry spoke a cleaning charm that took care of every bit of dirt in this room. Now it was a bit too clean to be a deserted room, but at least the silhouette of his body was gone.

Gazing around a last time to see if he had forgotten anything, Harry moved to open the door before he remembered and shook the head above his own forgetfulness. He really lost sight of reality when playing around with his powers – and potions. Maybe he should not do that anymore. He would stay far away from everything the mediwitch wanted him to drink, though Harry needed to research his magic. It was draining not to know on what to rely. He had no basis to work from.

Taking the protective spells off, Harry made his way back to the common room without giving a glance left or right, totally involved with himself, still keeping hold of Tom, and realizing that for the instant he could feel nothing of him. Harry could not even feel him watching or waiting. It was like he was gone, though Harry knew that he was there – and something else, too. The whisper like humming was back.

He tried to follow those sensations that reverberated through his skull, but it was like trying to catch smoke. The only thing Harry knew was that it could not have been a potion-induced hallucination after all. When he stepped into the dormitory and felt his legs all but give out when he reached his bed Harry lost track of it, and a moment later it was totally gone as if it had never been there. Harry sighed heavily and closed his eyes. Whatever the hell was happening with him, it scared the hell out of him.

It was only a moment later when his eyes blinked open as something poked him in the ribs. Harry struggled up on his elbows, gazing at his friends with a thoughtful frown. He had not heard them coming in. Then he grinned.

"I'm still in the dorm, am I?"

"Sure, why?" Hermione and Ron threw each other a glance.

"It's a boy's dorm." Harry sat up and scratched his head. "Isn't it against the rules for girls to enter?" Her cheeks tinged pink, but Hermione pressed her hands to her hips, just watching him. She must have seen Mrs. Weasley doing that whenever she was talking to the twins.

"Don't try to change the topic. That won't work, Harry."

"What topic?" Harry frowned with a curious smile. "We're not talking about anything but … well, your presence in a place where it's forbidden." Out of the corner of his eye Harry saw Ron's nose wrinkling as he tried to suppress a grin. Hermione though did not much care for his small talk. A pity, that. It seemed as if he would have to think of something to make them step back a bit – and it was only the first week.

"Harry, stop it. What's going on? The whole day you have been … not here. What is it? Professor Dumbledore? V-Voldemort? Does it have something to do with your disappearance? What? Don't run away again, Harry."

"I think Pomfrey may have overdosed me," Harry said after a moment's consideration, "but don't tell her; I'm sure she'd never live that down."

"You were running around like some crazy chicken even before that." Ron grinned, but this time his eyes held more reserve.

"I like chicken." The boys shared a smile. They understood each other or better Ron's preference for food, and even Hermione's frown did not change that.

"But…" She sat down next to Ron.

"I'm not riding on clouds anymore, Hermione. I'm not addicted either … not yet anyway." He tilted his head and grinned. "Though it wouldn't be too bad go riding some more, I think." He held up his hands when Hermione's gaze darkened. "Just kidding, honestly."

"You made us worried sick, Harry." She was still demanding answers.

"I know. I didn't want to do that." Harry sighed. "I'm sorry that I'm so short tempered." He shrugged and tried to be more sincere. "I have just a lot to think about."

"What about?" Hermione would not give up. "We are your best friends. If you can't talk to us, who can you talk to?"

Harry nodded. That was exactly his problem. He could talk to no one. He did not dare. Who would not freak out if he told them that Tom Riddle listened in to every conversation he had? Harry could not prove it, but it was very likely that Tom had learnt more about the so called light side he was fighting since he had been caught in Harry's head than in all his life before.

"If I think about what happened and what I will miss without ever knowing I could cry through night and day," Harry whispered, afraid to say it out loud, "but life goes on, especially that of Harry Potter, I don't have the luxury to … grieve." He bit his lip. "So I simply don't think about what my life is lacking and I don't miss it anymore – at least until the moment I remember." He gazed up at her with a sad smile. "That's why I …ran, as you put it."

Hermione watched him as if she wanted to hug him. He was truly glad that she sat next to Ron, who probably would not mind a hug from whatever girl and had a tight grip around her wrist. Harry's lips twitched, but it could be because he was sad, so he swallowed and looked into his lap.

He thought that if Hermione would be a hundred years older she would have worked tremendously well with Dumbledore. She wanted to know, so she pressed forward, never mind that some people did not like pressure. Or she was just a really good friend? Maybe, and Harry read too much into everything, questioned every motive. If now was the time to be honest he should give them something more to think about, to make all of them believe that he was not so different than last year, only a bit older perhaps.

"There's something else I haven't told you." Harry fidgeted uncomfortably and his shoulders dropped. "You know the prophecy?"

"Yeah." Ron shuddered. "I hate brains." Harry smiled silently and ignored the impatient girl on the redhead's side to delay it a bit longer.

"Harry?" Hermione's brows furrowed. She clearly suspected already what was coming. She was much too clever for her own good.

"Well, it wasn't lost as everyone thought." And he told them of last year's conversation with the old man, about his anger and helplessness, and that he would be the one who had to kill the Dark Lord at long last. The only thing Harry did not mention about the prophecy was the fact about Neville. No one had to know that Neville could have been in his shoes. That was past and should the prophecy ever come to light his dorm mate would not do well with such knowledge. It was already decided, so Harry took the moment to enjoy his friends' expressions.

Ron's mouth hung open, and Hermione stared ahead somewhat dazed, though she seemed get a grip really fast and was already analyzing the situation with the new information with which Harry had provided her.

"Well," was her conclusion after a minute of heavy silence, "ultimately we knew that already, didn't we? Ron, you'll catch flies." Her gaze was determined, her mind already poring over books that could be of help. She was never leaving Harry out of her intense scrutiny.

"You didn't talk about that to anyone else, did you, Harry?"

His lips pressed together, Harry shook his head.

"It's no wonder that you're so jumpy. You carried that around all summer, and then the …kidnapping and your … your godfather."

"Yes." Harry's gaze was deep. "I'm just … remembering, you know. I see something that reminds me of Sirius and … the prophecy and I just stop functioning. Does that make any sense to you?" Harry smiled his true brave Gryffindor smile and was relieved to see Hermione's suspicion deflate, though Ron seemed more and more uncomfortable. Boys were not normally known to be all emotional when another boy was around. Harry grimaced. What would he not do to keep Hermione a while longer off his track? Hell, he needed her mind, but he did not want her involved, neither of them.

"That makes every sense, Harry. I'm so sorry. I'll – we will help whichever way we can." She glared at Ron. "Won't we?"

"Yeah!" Ron's freckles stood clearly out of his unusually pale face. "Of course, mate." The facts were obviously not so easy for a tempered redhead to grasp.

"Thank you, guys." Harry put his chin into his hands, his gaze firmly directed to the ground. He refrained to show more emotion than necessary. Nothing could hold Hermione next to Ron when someone was crying or something like that. Harry really did not need another scene like at the station.

In the end, the decision to reveal the prophecy to his friends brought him their understanding and – in Hermione's case – her will to help him out with any research he might want to do. Sadly, she thought he would want to read about prophecies – as if this one was not enough. Harry was not really interested in that topic. Her interest in magic and Wizarding maturity was much more rewarding for him, at least Harry hoped so, but he would not want her suspicious again. Another halfway plausible explanation would be hard to fudge. Harry heaved a sigh.

It was a long time until his friends let him go that evening. They spent their leisure time together until dinner, reading, playing and talking about nonsense; and even after they came back to the common room afterwards Hermione would not let him go on his own and Ron watched him from the side whenever he thought that Harry was not looking.

It was driving Harry crazy, but he had to give his friends some time to get used to the prophecy or whatever. Hermione held him in arm's reach as if she believed he would break down over her at any moment. That was truly the last thing Harry would ever do. Hermione could be worse than Mrs. Weasley when she set her mind into it. Harry pitied the poor guy who would marry her. It was only after curfew when Harry got away with a yawn after his eyes had seemingly fallen close an hour after he sat back in the armchair that had become his over the years.

It was under the shower, his face turned into the hot and energizing spray of water, when Harry felt the first signs that Tom was back in business after a few much needed hours of absence. Thumping his head against the stall, Harry cursed the day he had come to know that stupid snake-face.

Deep in the night, everyone else was long since asleep; Harry could not bear the quiet darkness anymore. He did not dare to fall asleep now. He might have had he not felt Tom's presence as if the bastard was waking from a deep unconsciousness, cautious but angry and already probing the shields for weaknesses. Tightly wrapped in his invisibility cloak, Harry wandered through the empty hallways, gazed at snoring portraits and watched the starry night outside the windows wistfully, before he turned in the early morning to get back into his bed before his friends would wake.

Harry was very tired and not all that cheerful with too much time to think. The last day had been a frightening experience. He did not know if he could live through another day like that, and honestly, Harry did not want to find out.

The stroll had taken up all night and as long as his feet moved Harry would not sleep. His cloak saved him from that stupid cat of Filch's, but otherwise he had neither seen nor heard anyone else until now.

There was no niche or archway in sight to get out of the way, so, deciding fast, Harry stepped simply out of the middle of the corridor, pressed his back to the wall and held his breath. Like a shadow of air he waited for the person to pass and give his way to the tower free.

Black robes billowing, Snape passed Harry mere inches away. It was only minutes until the dark man disappeared from Harry's view, but he really did not need this. With a soundless sigh he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Either the sallow man was an early riser or he went to sleep now lest he got burnt from the daylight. Harry grinned. Trust Snape to be nocturnal, but all these stories circling of him being bat or vampire or both at once must have their foundation somewhere.

Snape had certainly ways to hide himself from the world and being thought a vampire must help with that, but he had seemed weary without a student or teacher to insult. Maybe he truly was ill as Hermione had thought. With a shake of his head Harry stepped away from the wall to continue his way up the stairs. He would find out or he would not, but now was not the time for that. No one else was crossing his path. All was quiet and even the Fat Lady spared him only a murmur of protest when the thin air in front of her mentioned the password.

Harry sat in front of the dying fire until the morning arrived. He thought about a way to trick Tom, or to find another way to get rid of him, but there seemed nothing but the ritual that Voldemort himself had tried to accomplish that would be of help to him. Tomorrow – or later this day – Harry decided he would start his research if he felt up to it or not.

When the first rays of sun leaked through the high arched windows he got up, wobbly, to take a cold shower and change his clothes. A look into the mirror made Harry grimace. He was relieved, though, that even mirrors seemed to sleep late, because for once it refrained from saying anything, and he looked even groggier than yesterday. Harry would rather like to have that potion back.

After he rubbed his face quite thoroughly to get some blood into his pale cheeks, Harry practiced his smile that was sadly interrupted by repeated yawns he could not seem to overcome. Only after he had that done decently, Harry went into the dormitory to wake Ron. Tom was suspiciously calm, but Harry knew that it was only the calm before the storm, and that made him more than a bit anxious as he shook his friend awake with a carefree smile plastered on his face.


	38. Chapter 37 : Making Friends

**Title:** Harry Potter and the Summer's Secret

_**Author:** Japhu _

_**Beta Reader:** Nagi_

_**Pairing:** HPSS_

_**Rating:** R_

_**Disclaimer:** I own nothing of Harry Potter and his world and don't make any money with it._

_**Summary:** For one week in summer Harry disappears without trace. When he comes back he claims to have no memory. But something happened and it changed him. It remains to be seen if for the better or the worse. (will be HPSS)_

_**Category:** action/adventure/angst_

_**Feedback:** highly appreciated_

_**A/N:** Thanks for your reviews./ To Anon: Maybe. ; )_

* * *

**Chapter 37 – Making Friends **

Harry watched with envy when Ron stretched sleepily and turned around with a wide yawn. He could not remember when he had last slept that peacefully.

"Get up, Ron." Harry pulled the pillow out from under his friend's head. "You don't want to oversleep during the weekend." Harry had not much patience this morning for people who felt well and happy – or sleepy.

Harry would have liked nothing more than to fall down onto a soft pillow and to stop thinking, but he could not. His whole body was still tingling in anticipation as if remembering the tremendous power that had flown through its veins, as if it could feel the promise it had borne, what it had tasted so short a time ago to never forget. Harry was frighteningly aware that he had been able to control this amount of magic only by a hairs breadth. He had always thought that Hogwarts had left him weak, but now Harry had to rethink. Not once before had really brought everything of what he felt brimming within him to use. He could not have handled an ounce more or he would have broken like a twig in a storm. It had taken its toll on him.

He felt too overwrought and only slowly did his depleted magic recover its former strength. He would be able to do some small spells and charms, but to defend himself in an attack he was not ready yet; and an attack would come without doubt. Harry concentrated hard to gather his focus, to prepare for Tom and to take on this day like the day before and the day before yesterday. Now, Tom was in no worse shape than he – save that he had no body of his own, of course – Harry grinned tiredly, but he could feel him getting stronger.

Tom was very angry, but also cautious. Tom was more cautious. Harry should have reckoned with that. The captured soul seemed to keep a firm hold on its magic to not release even a sniff of it too early. Harry had felt Tom's surprise when he had … wakened up after being bettered. It had been a good feeling to win for once, even if it was only one battle, if Harry could avoid thinking of the pain and of what would come soon. Tom did no more attacks to annoy, now he would attack to win and kill. Harry shuddered and pulled his robe closer around his overtired body and long since disillusioned mind. With a longing glance towards his bed, Harry followed Ron down into the common room and further towards the great hall when the redhead had pulled over a robe and had flattened his hair half-heartedly.

Breakfast was short for Harry. A piece of toast and a glass of pumpkin juice, more he could not stomach, making himself queasy with worry about what would be his near future. Normally Harry managed to shove those things away into the back of his head, but today there seemed to be only space enough for Tom. Harry still did not like to fret about things he had no possible way to change, and as he did not have a choice but to keep going Harry would do just that, though he was glad to sit down back in the common room and to let wash the talk of his friends over him like a balm, at least until Ron flopped down into the nearest armchair when no one of them seemed to have any plans.

"What are we doing now?" Ron sprawled lazily and with a concentrating frown one would seek for fruitlessly when he did homework, the redhead picked out the last bits of breakfast from his teeth.

"Ron, you have manners like a pig." Hermione sat down the book she had left for breakfast already open on her lap.

The following conversation about the sense of table manners or the lack thereof was nothing Harry was interested in listening to, so with a heavy sigh he stepped in before it got uncomfortable around here and his friends set off to start one of their arguments.

"I need to read up on Herbology. I have an essay due to Monday," Harry explained dryly and in a very bored tone of voice. Sure enough Hermione forgot Ron, her face aghast as she jerked around to Harry.

"That was summer work!" she exclaimed.

"I know." He grinned at the girl. "You'll help me, won't you?"

"I'm not letting you copy my homework, Harry."

"Not even because of the kidnapping?" Both of them ignored Ron's snort.

"Harry! Don't joke about that!" She leaned back in her seat, struggling for control. "And no, not even because of that."

"You're a tough one." Harry sighed theatrically. "It doesn't hurt to try, though. However, if I have to write it on my own I'm getting to it now." All the way up the stairs Harry could hear Ron's muttering about wasting all of their precious weekend inside…studying even.

When Harry got back down with everything remotely related to school shoved into his bag Ron was still twiddling his thumbs obviously not in the mood for homework or anything related to that.

"You're not opposed to reading it once I have finished, are you?" he said with a small smile when he got everything he needed and more out of his bag. Harry nodded gratefully at her when she finally relented. Harry would not be the next Neville in Herbology, but he definitely had a better hold about plants now than before this summer. It was just another thing for Harry to practice his acting skills on.

It was half an hour later and Harry was still writing his essay he had begun during the train ride when Hermione picked up his lesson plan from among the mass of loose parchments and carefully set up books while Ron looked over his list of _'Quidditch Moves for Seekers' _as bored as Harry had been sometime ago. Even if Ron would not play that position, everything about Quidditch was better than doing homework. Harry gave him only a fleeting glance before he turned back to Hermione, and of course she had caught on fast to the differences of a normal student's schedule and the one of Harry Potter.

"Why is Potions in brackets?" she frowned at him and Harry mirrored her expression with ease, before shrugging her curiosity off like a too small cloak.

"It's on a somewhat voluntary basis for me." Harry bit the end of his quill and wrote another faulty paragraph down on his parchment. For a minute Hermione let him be and when she just drew a breath to speak Harry elaborated brightly with not a care in the world.

"I didn't make it into the NEWTs class and I wanted to drop it altogether, but Dumbledore made me agree to go the average Potions. He said I should have at least a look into the class before I drop out for real."

"Well, in danger that you don't want to hear it, I think he's right, Harry," she said thoughtfully, and Harry was growing tired of hearing that sentence of her.

"Of course, Hermione." Harry rolled his eyes and changed a look with Ron. "I don't know yet if I'll go to Potions, though. I'd just rather concentrate on my NEWTs classes, you know?" He shrugged and pointed to his not yet half finished essay. "Honestly, I don't really want to go, I suppose though," he closed with a sigh, "that I'm not given a real choice just now." Hermione looked scandalized, but that was just Hermione, so he ignored her in favour of her friendship and the things she would be able to figure out of old books that he might overlook.

"Well, that's enough of sitting around for me." Harry decided after some time, closed his Herbology book with a final snap and rolled up the parchments. "I need to go to the library to look up some plants and gather books about this and that." With that he pulled the parchment out of Ron's hand and put it in his Herbology book, so that he could just read what he would need to accomplish rather sooner than later.

"Why so suddenly?" Hermione blinked suspiciously.

"My backside's getting itchy." Harry grinned, not stopping to pack away everything. "Don't you want to get out for once? I'm not staying holed up in here for the whole day." He glanced at Ron, whose patience was wearing thin. "I bet Ron would die to get a move on."

"Move? Where to?" He pushed himself up restlessly. "What about Quidditch?"

"No, Ron. Harry's essay's not ready yet. We're going to the library. You'd do well to come with us." She said it and pulled the fast-surrendering boy behind her with surprising vigour. Harry followed freely, a fleeting grimace of pain marring his features before his smile was back. Harry was sure now that it would not take days for Tom to recover fully; hopefully Harry recovered just as fast. With a sigh he followed his friends through the hallway, his mind already adjusting and readjusting what he needed to know now, and what he could possibly delay for a later date.

Then Harry looked up and saw the mediwitch, her head bent backwards to look at Snape talking quite animatedly to the git of a Potions Master. Sadly, Harry could not understand a word that was uttered. He could guess, though. Harry clenched his teeth and tried to walk past them without any outward sign that he knew what their topic of conversation would probably be.

When he and his friends passed them both adults glanced at him as if he was something strange, formerly unknown, though Pomfrey nodded once and turned her attention back to Snape, who was apparently thinking he could riddle him out if he just stared long enough. Harry suppressed a smirk and then they had passed the pair of staff. When Harry looked back once they had their heads bent together again.

Harry could hear the bastard's muttering already. How he would go on about how his modification of Pepperup was approved and working well and reliably on all the patients habituating St. Mungos. Harry had no problems to imagine Snape going on about that it must be a Potter thing that this imbecile – Harry sneered at that thought – clearly had to be special. Stupid git. Harry hoped that this potion went terribly wrong; that they would strip him of his Master rang and chase him out of Hogwarts. With a sigh the daydream was lost in an abyss of reality. The potion had worked, even though it did so with noticeable delay. It had helped him, too, or at least it had made difficult decisions easier to decide – not that he would tell that – ever. That man had already enough grease on his head without Harry adding to it.

When they finally reached the library Hermione headed off to find some books for DADA – she had to read up a lot to keep up with that class, at least this was her opinion – and anything else she could get her hands on. With a shrug and a last glance at Ron, who trudged listlessly over to a corner to secure a table for them, Harry was off on his own. At first he made his way to the Herbology section were he pulled out a book that halfway seemed to meet the essay's contents, then he needed to search for a while to find the section about magical bindings and bonding ceremonies.

Glancing swiftly through the hall to see if someone was looking, Harry changed the book about bondings to show only the texts and pictures of the first one when someone else made a long neck to glimpse the contents. The original Herbology book Harry put into the shelf instead of the other one. Then he hurried back to Ron and Hermione and showed it to the girl, a little bit put out at her when she seemed to think he was not really going to work on his essay.

"I'd tell you I need to look up some plants," Harry murmured indignantly and leaned back to open the book at its first page.

An hour later Harry had to admit that this had been a waste of time. As thick and unwieldy as this old thing was it held nothing more but legends and what Harry would have labelled fairy tales in the Muggle world about love and betrayal and always a looming death above one party. It held no facts he could use, but it had been a first try and Harry could not always get lucky. Rubbing his neck to get the stiffness out of it, Harry took a deep breath. It was not yet time for lunch, so Harry opted to give it another try. He only emerged of some odd account of an failed bonding some time later when Ron poked him between his ribs, though if one wanted to believe it to be true that the guy had turned into a dragon after the love of his life rejected the bond because she was in love with another wizard was anybody's guess. Harry tended to be doubtful about anything like that.

Lunch did take even less time for Harry than breakfast, or it would have if not for his friends; one of them shovelling ladle upon ladle onto his own plate, the other shovelling ladles enough to last a year onto Harry's plate, all of it with a sweet smile no boy could come up against, though Harry came near when he picked up his fork to level down his mountain of food under Hermione's watchful eyes.

During the whole meal Ron was short tempered and grumpy and did he not have his food to be occupied with one could come to think that he ignored his friends purposefully. However, he seemed to still have hope when he declined Seamus' invitation to a friendly bit of dungeon creeping to find the entrance to the Slytherin common room on their way back to the library.

Harry was watching Ron in silent amusement. It was clear that the redhead wanted nothing more than to be away from books. Half an hour he managed to keep his mouth close, and then he cleared his throat with a dark look until he was sure to have both of their attention.

"How long do you plan staying here?" Ron grew restless very fast anywhere near the library, especially after he had all but stayed in this silent, dusty place for hours already.

"A bit." Hermione said and Harry nodded, keeping his eyes firmly on the text. "Well," Ron grumbled, "I go with Dean and Seamus."

"Why did you not go with them when they asked you?" Hermione blinked at him, her mind occupied digesting the information she swallowed down in record time.

"Never mind." Ron packed his books and only then did Harry acknowledge his friend.

"Have fun, Ron." The redhead nodded gratefully. It seemed to appease his boiling temper a bit to not be fully ignored by his best friend. Harry watched him leaving the library before he bent down again.

Five minutes later Harry closed his book. "I'll go ask Madam Pince something and then go back to the common room. You're all right?"

"Yes, Harry, of course." She turned a page in the heavy tome she had heaved over to read.

"All right." Shoving the lose parchments into his bag, Harry gathered up the library books and slowly made his way over to Madam Pince, thinking how he wanted to go about her, but Harry really had not much choice. He could not take a year to befriend some old woman and get her to trust and like him. He needed a reason to start talking.

"Ma'am?" Harry looked shyly up to her. She stood slightly upraised behind the counter and wore a forbidding frown. Her eyes were narrowed and fixed on his own as if she was a tiger ready to pounce on its prey. That did not irk Harry.

"I wondered if you could possibly help me, Ma'am." He did not look away from her eyes even once, and though it was not necessary to stare the one you were trying to legilimize to the ground if he could simply hold her gaze it would make the whole thing easier and a lot faster to accomplish with less sources for mistakes.

Thankfully it was not necessary for her to answer him out loud. It would take him years to her to open up to actually talk about her personal life to a student. Because of this Harry was glad that it was enough if she only thought about the right topic when he was gazing into her mind. It would still take some time, because he needed to touch on to as much topics as he possibly could if he wanted to figure out what her weak point was. So he better do it now rather than later when Hermione resurfaced from whatever topic she had herself buried into.

"What do you want, boy?" She stared down at him suspiciously.

Harry blinked indifferently and suppressed a sneer. He did not like people calling him 'boy' any more than when they called him 'freak' or 'imbecile', though he had grown used to all of those unflattering titles years ago.

"I'm … well." She easily intimidated Harry, really. "I just thought you should know that when I wanted to read this one," he held the book up to her with his finger between the pages, "those pages here were ripped out. I don't know who had it last, but … well. I'm sorry to bother you, Ma'am." Harry inclined his head, waiting for her to give them leave.

"That is …" She cleared her throat clearly put out. "I thank you, boy, for bringing this to my knowledge," she said crisply, and her shrivelled face scrunched up irritably.

"It's really no problem, Ma'am." Harry shrugged as if he did not feel right to tell on some fellow student, even if he did not know whom, but he smiled a bit more open now when it was clear that she would not take off his head. "I like reading very much, Ma'am. I would never forgive my friends if they treated a book I lent them this way." He shrugged with a shy smile. "I lived in the Muggle world, you see, and I miss a lot of things. At first books were just a great help to squash the homesickness, but there is so much that I don't know yet and I can't read fast enough to read all the books in this library before I'm ready with school to never return." Harry sighed sadly. "You know what I miss most, Ma'am?" Harry watched her intently, waiting for her reaction. "I miss all those novels that are just like magic in a way because they take one away into another world." Harry did not even stop to breath. "Can you guess what I love most?" Harry was in his element. "The same thing really." He smiled sheepishly before going on about this and that. He told her how he missed having a real family, though his friends were great; how he dreamt of a quiet life away from the hubbub of war. He went on about what he always wanted to do and learn but never did have the time to start or finish. It took some talk active and noisy squabble of third or fourth years behind the shelves to make him stop in his pointless rambling to a woman who looked a bit surprised about being the receiver of such a trip down a student's memory lane.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am. I got carried away." Harry gazed at her, wide eyed and apologetic, when he realized how much time he was already talking, keeping her from her important work with her … feather duster. Her expression was no less strict, but her eyes showed wonder and Harry had gotten a good deal of information out of her about what she wanted and wished for in her life.

"I just wanted …" Harry pointed to the book in her hand. "I'm sorry if I kept you from your work, Ma'am." With a slight, respectful nod of his head Harry walked off, putting the rest of his books back into the shelves and turned back to Hermione. All the time he could feel the old woman's eyes boring holes into his back.

Behind that nasty and old-fashioned exterior was actually a real person. She had likes and dislikes, same as everyone else. For example, she was not very fond of Snape – a reason that made her likable in Harry's eyes despite her frowning and calling him 'boy' – or of him taking her precious books out of the library. There was nothing Snape had done recently, but according to her somewhat fuzzy memory he had spilled some potion about a really expensive tome as a student when one of his many experimental potions exploded right into his face and her book. It had to be thrown away after this experience in the dungeons because nothing could make the pages readable again. It was just another piece to add to the ammunition he was gathering to throw into Snape's face at the right time. It was nothing heavy, but it could be fun if put into the git's way at the right opportunity.

Legilimency was a very useful tool to have at hand, Harry thought, though he would never use it on another Legilimens like Dumbledore or someone who was adept in Occlumency like Snape. People who knew what to look for could detect it way too easily. Harry shook his head and slid into the chair next to Hermione. He watched her for a moment, but she did not even acknowledge his presence.

"I have enough of books for today," Harry said finally, gazing about the table where Hermione had spread her reference books all over to see what topics he could actually cross out of his list. "I'll go see if I find Ron. They can't be that far gone already."

"Yes, of course, Harry." She gazed at him distractedly. "If you think so." She gripped her quill to write. "I'll stay a bit longer if you don't mind. I need to look up something else." She held her quill, hesitating, and blinked at him. "Tell him that he should keep a better hold of his temper."

"I think you should tell him that for yourself." Harry shook his head with a grin and headed out of the library before Hermione thought differently about him going of again on his own. He needed some time to let his guard down and relax. His resolve was wearing thin. Also, Harry needed to think of something to get Madam Pince her Muggle classic music for a start, or at least he needed her to think that he would get it. It was not a major problem, but it was tricky all the same with Muggle technology not working around magic, and Pince loved classics the way Ron loved the Chudley Cannons. She went to concerts with her niece and even had a small collection of Muggle records at home and uncountable books about the most famous composers, their works and their biographies.

Stepping out of the library, Harry took a relieved breath. One other task was halfway done. Now he should look for his best friend as he had told Hermione he would do. However, Harry did not really go out to find him. He wanted to be alone for once. Tom grew stronger with every minute and Harry could not help but fret the time to come when he was strong enough to let him feel his anger about this unexpected turn of events during the last day. Harry had just stepped out of the castle when a dry branch cracked under someone's foot and he whirled around in surprise, caught unaware.

"Hello." A small voice announced. The girl hugged her doll tightly. She seemed shy now when her emotions were not in frenzy, but she looked up to him, her big eyes full of trust, and Harry could not help but cringe inwardly.

"Well, dove." Harry smiled when she blushed. Last time she had most probably been too occupied to listen how he called her. "How do you like it so far?"

"It's great." She grinned brightly. "I never thought it would be this …" wordlessly she just pointed to the castle. "My parents won't believe half the things I write them."

"Yes, I can imagine." Harry looked her up and down. The robes she wore were dirty. She must have been outside for some time now and more importantly she had obviously been in places where exemplary students kept far away from.

"You're not bored, are you, Dove?"

"No." She held up her doll with an indignant face. "I played with Ginia and showed her the grounds. She knows the castle already. I showed it to her yesterday. We even went up to the astronomy tower."

"And you didn't lose your way?" Harry asked disbelief made obvious in his voice, though his eyes laughed at her enthusiasm.

"Not even once," she said proudly. Then she frowned. "Why'd you want to know if I was bored?"

"Well, you could have come with me then." Harry tilted his head and pointed towards the lake. "I was going to scare the squid a bit."

"I can come with you? Scaring the squid?" The last part seemed doubtful to her, no question wondering how he was going to do something like that.

"Yes, but if you'd rather play with … Ginia?" Harry smiled.

"No. I'll …she can come too, can't she?"

"I wouldn't dare to leave her behind," Harry said seriously, and that decided it. Shyness forgotten, she hopped next to him like some dervish, passed him then, ran back to him to outpace him again. Harry doubted that Professor Sprout, her head of house, could keep up with her longer than a few minutes.

"You're Harry Potter," she said finally when they reached the shore.

"Really?" Harry raised a brow. He laughed out loud when her nose crunched up as she rolled her eyes.

"I mean you're … famous." She tilted her head. "I didn't know before."

Harry looked down to her with an expression of amused serenity. "Does it bother you?"

"No." She frowned and hopped back to his side, hesitating a moment before her curiosity won over. "Are you as strong as they say?"

"Well, I'd think I'm not among the weakest," Harry said enigmatically, and grinned when her frown increased. "Do you need help?"

"No." She shrugged. "I was just wondering." Then she caught sight of the lake and she was gone again. With sparkling eyes she set her doll onto a rock and ran to the water, staring entranced at the glistening surface.

"How come you speak English this well?"

"My grandma spoke dozens different languages. She came from England, though, that's why she was adamant that we learn and use it from early on. She always said you can't always expect people to speak your language if you're travelling through their countries, so you should always have at least a few vocabularies on your list to ask the way and say thank you and things like that."

"Your grandma was a wise woman."

"Yeah. She died a year ago, though."

"Oh." Harry swallowed the well meant but empty 'sorry' that came forward on its own.

"It's all right. She was very old and daddy said it was a peaceful death. We live in her house now. It's really big and old, just outside of London. I wonder what she would have said if she knew I was a witch." She twirled a curl around her finger. "You know, when I first found out that I was a witch everything was just so …"

"Overwhelming?" Harry could remember that time very well.

"Yeah. Sometimes I still can't believe it's real." She grinned at him, but then her eyes grew sad. "I wonder what would have happened if we stayed in the Netherlands. My mom didn't want to come here, you know?"

"Really?" Harry took a flat stone and threw it to give her some time to think. People talked more freely if they didn't feel pressured. Sadly, neither Hermione nor Dumbledore had come to this realization as of yet. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her nodding to herself.

"We came to England because of daddy's job …" It seemed as if she was struggling with herself. "…And because of aunt Esther." Sinje swallowed with a heavy sigh and watched the next stone Harry threw jumping five times before it sunk down with a plop. In silence they stood at the shore, Harry waiting for her to speak, and the girl pondering if she should.


	39. Chapter 38 : Hogwarts' Harry

_Title: Harry Potter and the Summer's Secret_

_**Author:** Japhu_

_**Beta Reader:** Nagi_

_**Pairing:** HPSS_

_**Rating:** R_

_**Disclaimer:** I own nothing of Harry Potter and his world and don't make any money with it._

_**Summary:** For one week in summer Harry disappears without trace. When he comes back he claims to have no memory. But something happened and it changed him. It remains to be seen if for the better or the worse. (will be HPSS)_

_**Category:** action/adventure/angst_

_**Feedback:** highly appreciated_

_**A/N:** Thank you very much for reviewing. _

* * *

**Chapter 38 – Hogwarts' Harry**

Harry did not say anything and bit his lips to keep from showing his growing weariness. For the next few minutes he threw one stone after the other. In a short time he would have to search for more, but then Sinje seemed to have decided whether she should tell him anything personal or not. Harry thought she must have waited for someone to talk about … whatever was wearing her down for some time now.

"She's really nice – aunt Esther I mean." She went back to retrieve her doll and sat down on the ground, leaning back against the sun warmed rock. "She gave me Ginia the last time I saw her. Aunt Esther said she's magical, that she'll always be with me when I keep her close."

"You miss her?" Twirling the last stone between his fingers, Harry sat down right next to her

"Yah. Very much." She hugged her doll tightly. "I listened in when my mommy and daddy thought I was asleep." She almost whispered, her chin resting on the head of her doll. "Daddy said that it's unlikely she'll ever come back, that she's probably … dead already." Harry suppressed a grimace and squeezed her shoulder comfortingly, though he still hoped she would not start to cry again.

"You want to tell me what happened, Dove?" He felt her trembling under his hand and pulled her close in a hug. She was a sweet child; one wanted to hug her and never let go of her again. It was disturbing to see her so sad.

"I don't know what happened." She murmured dejectedly. "She hasn't been seen in a long time, that's all I know. Daddy thinks she could be …a victim of a violent crime." She frowned at this term and her lips trembled. "I just miss her."

"I hope you'll see her again, Dove." Harry tightened the embrace with a glance at the doll.

"Thanks." The little girl sniffed and Harry felt like an ass for not finding the right words to give her comfort when she obviously needed it.

"Do you know someone who's called Seamus?" She sniffed a last time, rubbed her eyes and smiled trustingly up to him, still leaning against Harry as if relishing in the closeness that gave her comfort.

"Yep. How do you know him?" Harry was glad she changed the topic.

"I don't, but Para and Oonagh are his cousins and they tell the most funny stories about him. They also said," Sinje grinned sheepishly, "that he had promised to show them the Gryffindor common room when they get sorted into another house."

"So?" Harry could not see how that mattered to him.

"Yeah, but he seems to …disappear whenever they go to him, so I thought …" She shrugged indifferently, but the way she blinked at him did tell the tale.

"Ah." Harry pressed her tightly before releasing her. "You want to use your relations to get them into our common room?"

"Would you?" She tried to suppress a grin of victory rather unconvincingly.

"It would certainly be a funny thing to watch Seamus trying to run from two first years," Harry mused aloud and shrugged. "So yes, why not? It'll teach Seamus a lesson to be nice to the girls in future." Delightedly she clapped her hands.

"I can come too?" She wanted to know right away.

"Of course. It's your relations that are getting them into our common room, isn't it?" To that a smile blossomed on her face that seemed to glow with happiness. After that their talk became happier. She told him about her first classes, about her friends and what she liked and disliked. Harry in turn told her some of what had been going on the past years. It was light talk and some time later when she had been quiet for some time, he found her curled up sleeping beside him. Harry snorted. It must be a first that the adventures of Harry Potter lulled a child into sleep. Harry liked it. It was quite refreshing.

Leaning back and letting the late summer sun warm his skin, Harry grew uncomfortably aware of the headache that was creeping up deep inside him. Harry could do nothing. He saved his own strength for the attack he knew to come when Tom had recuperated enough of his magic to strike back. To keep himself from fretting, Harry took his wand and played around with a small pebble. He enlarged it, shrunk it, and then transfigured it in a small round box similar to those in which his aunt kept Dudley's cookies. It worked well. Once he knew how to send most of his magic not through but around the wand it was fast becoming everyday business. With a smirk Harry then took a handful of other pebbles from the ground and transfigured them into five delicious looking, soft cream cakes with blueberry toping and put them into the box.

"Can you eat them?" Harry blinked at finding her awake.

"Of course, though you have always remind yourself that when you transfigure …say, a twig like this," Harry grabbed a branch as long as his arm, "into a sausage and eat it, it will turn back into a twig when the magic dissipates and you have by then your stomach full of pieces of wood." The girl grimaced, but did not turn her eyes from Harry's work.

"For what are you doing it then?" she asked, intently watching Harry doing magic she could all but dream of doing in first year.

"Oh, I know some people who are always hungry. I like to be prepared." Harry grinned. "Either way, those pebbles are so small he'll hardly notice them between all that other food." Harry put the finishing touches to the box of cream cakes. Five was all that fit into it.

"To whom are you giving it?" Sinje grinned doubtfully.

"I'm not sure yet. I thought a friend of mine."

Giggling, she pushed herself up to her feet. "My friends say that your friend eats like a pig." She giggled. "It's for him, isn't it?"

"I wouldn't give something like that to my best friend, would I?" Laughing, Harry shrunk the box and stowed it away in the depths of his robe.

After this they stayed only a little while longer, long enough though for Harry to show her how to throw a stone that it hopped across the water's surface at least a few times. It was a lot of fun and Sinje was a fast learner and a sight to see when she was happy; her doll lay all but forgotten on the rock.

Finally it was time for Harry to call an end. Dinner was fast approaching and by that time Harry wanted to be safely in the dormitory, lest he came past one infuriating git of Potions Master who pulled him down to clean cauldrons in that stupid detention he had to serve.

"Come along now," Harry said with a glance towards the darkening sky.

"But I didn't even see the squid," She announced, disappointed, throwing the last stone as far as she could.

"Maybe you hit it on the head with one of your flying rocks and it's knocked out." Harry grinned. "I'm sure it's gone to sleep early to live down its headache."

"You're having me on." Sinje reached for her doll indignantly when Harry only laughed.

"I wouldn't dream of it." The laughter was still in his voice.

"That's all right then." Sinje grinned right back and they made their way to the castle in companionable silence until she cleared her throat in the middle of the entrance hall.

"I had a lot of fun today," Sinje said shyly, as if asking herself why Harry Potter chose to stay with her when he could do something else.

"I did too." Harry calmed her nerves. "We can do it again some time."

"Yeah. I'd like that." The answer was prompt and heartfelt. "Then I'll see you at dinner?" she asked, already on her way to the Hufflepuff territory.

"Ah, no." Harry shook his head. "Probably breakfast. I'd rather stay far away from the great hall for now." Harry winked secretively, and sure enough the girl came back, her cute nose scrunched up again.

"Why? Did you do something to a teacher?"

"What do you think of me?" Harry shook his head. "No. I simply was supposed to go to a detention, but I can't stand our Potions Master, so I'm not planning to meet him anytime soon."

"Yeah." She grinned. "Is he really as bad as everyone says?" She bent towards him. "They say he's a bat and sucks blood when we don't do our potions right and forget to do our homework."

Laughing, Harry nodded. "I suppose he does in a way. Who told you that?"

"The prefect when he showed us the way to our dormitory."

"He certainly didn't lose time, did he?" Harry grinned at her. "You have your first potions lesson next week?"

"Yes. I thought it sounds interesting," the girl said doubtfully.

"Oh, it is." Harry pulled a face at her uncomprehending expression. "You'll see what I mean. Just don't let him get to you. He's a bit grumpy because the only ones who don't run from him when classes are over are the flobberworms and that's only because he has them holed up in glasses to keep him company."

Sinje stared at him, then giggled.

"Are you going to be all right?" Harry asked a moment later.

"Yeah." She smiled honestly. "I'm fine. Thanks for …" She stepped from one foot to another. "…For listening … you know."

"Any time." Harry winked at her. "You know who to ask for." With a last wave and a happy smile, she vanished down the stairs to the entrance of Hufflepuff and Harry's smile slid off his face as he exchanged one mask for another.

His stride was strong and purposeful. Harry hurried to get out of the hall before the first students came down to dinner, and before the pain in his head grew strong enough to tunnel his vision down to small specks of light while he struggled to keep his feet moving. More than once during the day he had felt Tom testing the strength of his barriers; the older the day got the stronger Tom became.

That Harry did not like Snape was not the only reason for skipping detention. Harry really did not feel up to Snape and Tom at once. As Snape would keep Harry well into the night there was just no way to get through the whole thing without Tom getting in the way. Harry felt that they would have another row in just a few hours. Then Tom was strong enough to attack with enough power to get Harry in serious trouble. Harry did not want to think about what would happen then, but whatever happened it would be downright stupid to even try to go to his detention. It was better Snape thought Harry arrogant and thick and took some points off instead of him breaking down in the dungeons right in front of Snape when the git most certainly would feel some of what went on between Tom and him.

When Harry stepped past the muttering portrait into the Gryffindor common room an hour after he had separated from Sinje, the first thing he did was to get that idiotic Gryffindor smile onto his face when he saw Hermione and Ron waiting for him. The second thing he did was ignore everything Hermione ranted at him about being off and gone again without him telling where he went. Harry barely refrained from telling her off. However, Hermione was a bright girl; it did not take long for her to realize that Harry was more interested in Ron's Exploding Snap than in what she had to say. She took a deep breath and Harry glanced at her with a slight smile.

"You all right, Hermione?" He acknowledged her presence at last.

"You missed dinner, Harry," the girl noted flatly, a disapproving frown marring her face, but she bit her lip and stopped there.

"I know." It was not the only thing Harry missed. "I'll go down to the kitchen when the hallways are not so crowded. I'm sure Dobby won't mind some company." Glancing at Ron, Harry raised his brow and pointed inconspicuously towards the door. The redhead caught on surprisingly fast.

"I'll go with you, mate." Ron gazed at Hermione. "I could take a dessert or two." He defended his decision.

"Great. We two might just happen to fit under the cloak." The only answer Hermione deigned to give them was a snort and a shake of her head. In turn both boys deigned to ignore her attitude in favor of a few rounds of Exploding Snap before they set off to the kitchen. Hermione did not even look up when they made themselves scarce and a few minutes later invisible.

"You don't really want to go to the kitchen, do you?" Ron whispered into his ear, trying to step over his feet and not stumbling over them.

"How did you guess?" Harry smirked sarcastically and pulled his unresisting friend into an empty classroom when they went through a deserted hallway.

"Funny, Harry." Ron straightened his hair – or tried to – when the cloak slid off. "Whatever are you on about?"

"Well, it's not as if I couldn't tell you in the dorm, but anyway," Harry reached into his robe and pulled a small box out of it. He enlarged it with his wand and gave it to Ron, who looked surprised and a bit suspicious.

"I didn't get it from the twins, honest. I made it myself – a substitute for the kitchen visit if you're missing it, if you will." Harry grinned slightly when Ron bit into them. Of course, Harry's magic was not weak per se, so those pebbles might remain in the form of cream cake until they were digested.

"Are they any good?"

"Yeah." Ron munched grinning. "How'd you make them? I didn't know you could cook." He put the cakes onto the next desk to watch them for a moment.

"A bit of magic here, a bit of magic there and ready they were." Harry watched as the box was emptied in a matter of minutes. "And just so you know, I can cook alright – after all, the Dursleys would have starved if I hadn't fed them." Harry grinned and shrunk the empty box. It would not do to turn it back into a pebble right in front of Ron's eyes.

"You're still hungry."

"Nah. It's all right. So what did you really need me to do, Harry?"

"Well, you know Hermione?" Harry rolled his eyes. "Of course I know that you know Hermione. I just meant the way she's on about me, you know?" Harry scratched his head.

"Yeah. She's a bit …bossy, but she's just worried, Harry."

"I know, and I really appreciate it, Ron. I just need some time for myself to think about the prophecy and Voldemort." The way Ron had looked when Harry had told them he would like nothing more than to forget the prophecy and everything it entailed.

"Yeah." Ron bit into another cream cake. "She's curious and you make her even more so." Then he shrugged. "I'm sure she'll calm down soon enough when she realizes you're not going to run away without us." His eyes went wide. "You won't run away without us, would you, Harry?"

"Never, Ron. You're my best mate." The redhead's eyes shone happily.

"Yeah. So what is it?"

"I thought you wouldn't mind to keep me company whenever Hermione thinks she's free to bother me with her questions. The only time I can think without her next to me is the library, and that's because she is busy reading right next to me. You saw her today."

For a minute or so Ron looked at him thoughtfully before he nodded determinedly and shoved the last piece of cream cake into his mouth as if to underline his decision. "I'm glad you're back … talking to us, Harry," he said finally and Harry's lips twitched.

"I know. Sorry about that. It was just too much at once," Harry said guiltily. "I feel better, though, now that I don't have to keep the prophecy a secret anymore."

"Yeah." Ron swallowed. "Do we want to go back now? I promise to keep your back Hermione-free for the next week or so, all right?"

"All right." Glad that this talk had been this easy, Harry stepped toward Ron and covered them both with the invisibility cloak before he opened the door, and they headed out onto the hallway in step and as silently as they could. They had to wait out McGonagall on her night patrol and needed to make a detour to keep away from Filth's nosy cat, but then they stepped into the common room and found all the seventh years and Seamus bending their heads together, whispering about this and that.

Without having to talk about it, the friends stepped closer to them to listen in. It was nothing important, though, so Harry pulled Ron away. He did not want to listen about the importance of butterbeer on a party and Seamus' high tolerance towards it and similar goods. Ron seemed to see it differently, because Harry had to work hard to get Ron out of the room and onto the stairs where they could at least get off this cloak.

"Why did you drag me away? They're going to meet up with the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. Don't you want to know what they're up to?"

"Not really." Harry yawned dryly. His headache was now back to being annoying. "But it's all right, Ron. You have been cooped up in the library with us all day. I understand. I'll go to bed early anyway. Just don't have too much fun. I doubt Hermione would be delighted to spell your hangover away a second time so soon after the first."

"Why don't you come with us?" Ron peered around the corner. It would not take long and they would go off to meet those from the other houses. Ron would like to have a good time too for once.

"We don't need to drink anything, you know? I still remember that hangover."

"I hope so." Harry snorted. "It's not been that long ago."

"You really don't want to go?"

"No, Ron. Have fun. Tell me how it went next morning."

"All right then. See you later, Harry." Then Ron stepped into the common room. "At least some are having fun," he said loudly and Harry was sure that every head turned to Ron.

"Feel free to join us, Ron." Seamus was inviting him and Harry could imagine the grin on his face while he stepped quietly up to the dormitory. It was dark save a small nightlight. Everyone else was fast asleep. Ron and Seamus were the only ones seeking an adventure. Even Dean had opted for an early night. Silently Harry made his way over to his bed and sat heavily down on the covers. He did want the time to stop. Unceremoniously and still fully clothed, he slumped back onto his pillows. Harry really did not know what was waiting for him in the morning. He could not fall asleep with an easy mind while Tom was recuperating faster and faster, whereas Harry grew wearier by the minute. The last time he had found rest for a few hours had been right after he had showed Tom that he still had to reckon with Harry; of course, it had been more unconsciousness than real sleep despite that he felt more rested than a long time previously.

During the day it had been easier to keep his eyes open. At first his friends had continuously nagged him, then Sinje had kept him awake when he could actually have a nap – not that he minded. Her company had been real fun. Now, though, all that was holding him away from the lands of dreams was his will and determination to be ready when Tom attacked; both were wearing thin and Harry functioned only on reserves of strength he did not know he had. Slipping off his shoes, Harry struggled out of his robes and unsteadily made his way to the bath.

With a cautious but satisfied glint in his eyes, Harry emptied pockets full of loose book pages into the shower stall only to set them aflame with a quick spell a moment later to watch the small flickering fire consuming all of it. The book had not been anything old or expensive. Madam Pince would easily get a copy of this one. Watching transfixed until even the last bit was burnt to ash, Harry silently turned on the shower to finally let the water wash the remains away.

It was with trepidation and an air of foreboding surrounding him that Harry stepped under the cold water. He did not care about his clothes, though, nor that he would be freezing in short a time; but he cared about staying awake and managing to call up enough of his slowly recovering magic when Tom was going to strike, and he would do so soon now. Harry felt it deep down, and he feared that he did not have enough strength left or gained back to win this. He was not invincible. He could make mistakes, so maybe he had calculated wrong. Harry did not know everything, but Merlin help him, he had better not have erred in this.

Breathing deeply, Harry held his head high into the drizzle of coldness that was slowly seeping into his body. He turned the water off only when he was shivering in the cold. His mind already highly alerted to the world within him that whispered of magic and power to come, Harry concentrated on gathering all of it. Dripping wet, he left a trace of giant tears in his wake. Hopefully that would not be all that remained from him in the morning. Detached from reality and as silent as a ghost, save a small squishing noise when his socks kissed the ground with every step, Harry shuffled back to his own small realm in this castle.

When he reached his bed Harry closed the curtains with his hands. He did not dare to use his wand now. He was so tightly strung that only one small moment of thoughtlessness might turn the tide and break the dam that held his powers back.

For hours Harry lay motionless on his blanket, staring at the canopy of his bed and tried to stop thinking as he kept himself occupied with the only part that was significant. Constantly Harry drew from his magic, he felt every single thread of energy moving and crackling within him, weaving itself to something greater, more powerful. It was a net to catch magic like fish in the sea. Harry did not know where he pulled this magic from. If he extracted it from himself or from his surroundings it did not matter, nor was it of any importance that every cell of his body vibrated painfully as he held the power, waiting for the right moment to let it loose. His head seemed to split open so much power was filling him, but not only his head his whole body was imbued with forcefully restrained energy. He knew that Tom was nearly ready. He was determined and would not give in again until one of them was as good as dead. Harry bit his lip. He could do nothing but wait and hope for his resolve to last past this day.

When it finally happened Harry did not get an advance warning. One moment he was waiting, the next he was already deep in battle against a very determined and silently angry wizard. Harry released his magic with as much control as he could keep upon it, guiding its tremendous energies not to strengthen the barrier around Tom but to penetrate it and hurt him, lashing out with his mind and magic. He needed to wear him down as fast as he possibly could. It was a battle of wills more than anything else, but he could not bring up more strength, he could not set more power against him than Tom could against Harry.

It was this moment that Harry realized that he would most probably lose this fight if it went on for much longer. He had no more left to throw in battle, no more strength to build up from and the burning pain was leaving his nerves open to attack. That Tom was straining his own power just as much as Harry was not really a relief. They were at a stalemate again and the one who would lose would be the one whose strength gave in first. Harry was fast feeling his strength diminish. His magic was not yet recuperated. But he could not give in willingly. He would not do it. He was not going to lose this fight or himself. Biting his lips, his hands balled to fists, Harry drew even deeper from his magic. Then something changed. It was as if a dam had broken. Suddenly there were no shields to keep him apart from his powers. Unhindered, Harry could dive into the whole depths of his magic.

Canopy and curtain and the whole world behind vanished abruptly within a blink of his eye and all he could see was a dazzling, blinding light, and though Harry pressed his eyes tightly together it would not diminish in any way because it came not from outside but from within him. All of a sudden Harry was overflowing with magic, he was surrounded by it, he breathed it; and it felt elevating as if life had come back and Harry had only been too dead to see that he had not lived until now. In the back of his head he knew that what was happening was not supposed to happen. The power he felt surging through his veins was what he had tried to get accustomed to during the summer, but there was more to it now. It was all too much, too sudden, too overwhelming and frightening. For a moment everything was in flux, then the castle pulled itself back, shut its own powers away from Harry's magic and for the first time since he had left the Dursleys Harry found himself able to use what he had learnt without leniency or thought for consequences.

Harry could not control that amount of power without being ripped to shreds and left bare, a shell of someone who had once lived, but that was not necessary. The sheer force alone, with which his magic surged through him, filled every cell and forced a smile of wonder on his face, was enough to leave Tom screaming along with Harry. However, it was Harry's magic, bound to his core and his being, so it followed his will and not Tom's. Full force Harry hit back. He just let it flow through and above him, he let it have its will and all he did was give it a nudge here and a slight prod there. When he had to take a breath only then did his screams of agony stop. Reverberating in his skull were Tom's howls of rage. Harry believed his head shattered, but that was a small price to pay to drive it home into that thick, stupid skull that he was not the master and lord anymore. Tom would have done well to remember that.

As fast and abruptly as this had started it was over, but Harry did not even notice that at some point the castle cut him off again from what should rightfully be his. Bile rose in his throat when he thought about what he had done to Tom. Although Tom had no body, a soul could be hurt just as easily if one knew how, and Harry knew. Everything he had thrown at Tom came from his former visions. The former lord himself had enforced those things with a sick smile on his snake face, though he had probably never thought to find himself at the receiving end of what his crazy mind came up with for some pitiful Muggles. Now Tom knew exactly what every last one of his victims had endured before death claimed their lives. Although Harry knew that without the rest of his powers – or more accurately most of his magic – he would not have been able to hold Tom for long.

Harry concentrated inwards. It seemed that Tom would remember this lesson much better than the one of the night before. He was practically weeping now after he had thrown a fit with raw magic. Tom had kicked out in every direction when he realized, through the waves of excruciating pain, that he would not win over Harry Potter.

When his sight came back, Harry shut his eyes at once, pressing both hands on his ears to shut out the wailing sounds of a madman. Harry did not want to listen. He felt like weeping himself. Minutes later he relented and let his hands sink onto his bed.

Ready to fall back onto his face and keep lying so until his breath was gone, Harry crept up to the head post, knelt in front of it and he stared at the wall like he would at a strange and dangerous creature of Hagrid's, and Hogwarts was dangerous. Should he? Harry moved tentatively despite he knew that he probably should not – but willing to do it nevertheless – reach to the wall with his flat hand. His fingers outstretched and trembling in anticipation, Harry could not suppress a groan. Inches away he could already feel the castle's power, its promise and its danger. Then he put his hand onto the stone before his courage left him and he felt so much more, sucked into a whirlwind of emotions that were as alien, nothing he had ever experienced before. It was not human, definitely not, but it lived and it wanted to go on living just as any being from whatever species, race or belief. But it did not search for a sense in life. It was, and it would be, and it needed him, though for what Harry could not say.

Harry frowned, not liking the sensations Hogwarts made him experience. He would lose himself if this connection continued to exist. What overwhelmed his senses was too foreign. Harry could hardly concentrate on his own thoughts, his mind constantly drifted away. Harry pulled himself together. Sparks of energy crackled between his fingers when he moved his shaking hand to his chest and sat back on his bed. He was too tired to think about what had happened. Harry blinked as if he was waking from a dream. He felt drained to the core and beyond. His whole body trembled as if he suffered from drug withdrawals.

More than once he stumbled and nearly fell on his way to the bathroom where he splashed hands full of water into his face without noticeable relief. Harry swallowed some of it to ease the pain in his throat and to get this nauseating taste off his tongue. The clothes that clung to his body were still damp, but now they were drenched with sweat instead of water. On his way back to his bed Harry took them off and let them fall where he was. Quietly he slipped under the blanket, his eyes closed already. A heavy sigh was the last sign of life before he slumped down. He easily succumbed to sleep. Harry even forgot to wonder why it was that he was still alive and whole, why he still had a mind of his own.


	40. Chapter 39 : Defending Arts

**Title:** Harry Potter and the Summer's Secret

_**Author:** Japhu_

_**Beta Reader:** Nagi_

_**Pairing:** HPSS_

_**Rating:** R_

_**Disclaimer:** I own nothing of Harry Potter and his world and don't make any money with it._

_**Summary:** For one week in summer Harry disappears without trace. When he comes back he claims to have no memory. But something happened and it changed him. It remains to be seen if for the better or the worse. (will be HPSS)_

_**Category:** action/adventure/angst_

_**Feedback:** highly appreciated_

_**A/N:** Thanks a lot for your reviews. I hope you didn't mind the long wait (and don't mind to wait just as long for the next). Writer's Block visited me and simply didn't want to leave. I'm still not sure if he's not just waiting around the corner to come back when I'm not looking… and add to that Real Life slipped in before I could close the door, so the next chapter might come alongside Santa Claus… I guess._

_To all impatient spirits out there: I swear you'll see more of HPSS (lots more). It will come as soon as the plot allows it to happen. The way it looks now the actual slash will start around christmas. However, as anticipation is half the satisfaction as Hades' Phoenix said (and I agree), I'm certain you won't get bored underway. _

_To Julia: The way this story develops your wish might just be granted._

_To Reflections: As I have read HBP already I don't mind the spoilers. If those horrid little cruxes were part of this story (which they aren't) it would still be questionable that Harry gained anything, because destroying the object would free the soul (at least if I had to write about it) and make the different parts unite with Tom, and Harry would be just where he is now (or worse). Anyway, whatever you have floating around your head I'd be glad to hear. You might not always get an answer to your reviews, but I'll always read and think about it._

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**Chapter 39 – Defending Arts **

Harry blinked into awareness with the sound of voices drifting by his ears. With a groan he turned around and opened and closed his eyes to get used to the light that seeped through his eyelids. Someone near him called his name, but Harry could only grunt and pull the blanket over his head. It was too bright, too loud outside. Harry began to drift off again.

"Harry!" Someone shook him and ripped the blanket off his face without a care for him.

"We have classes today, Harry." It was Ron's voice wanting him to move. Harry groaned. He would kill Ron later.

"We all slept through breakfast, Harry. If you don't get up now you'll get late!"

Harry muttered something and moved to hide under the pillow, but then he heard Seamus' voice wondering aloud.

"It's never happened that all of us slept in, guys." There was a murmur of agreement. "I have never slept as peacefully before. I think someone has secretly replaced the bed."

"Yeah, I swear I couldn't wake up before the sun was out," Dean added.

Now wondering himself, Harry rolled onto his back and moved an arm, and then a leg with a heavy sigh, and finally the rest of his body out of his bed and halted there, his bare feet hovering barely an inch above the cold stone ground before he pulled them back onto the bed.

"Ron?" Harry scrambled to the end of his bed. "Could you give me my socks, please?" Harry asked in an innocent voice and ignored the popping of his joints and his aching muscles for the moment.

"Why don't you get them yourself?"

"The ground's icy, Ron. I don't want to catch a cold." Harry reached out toward his socks he had thrown from him last night and blinked pleadingly at his friend. "Would you? Please?"

"Fine." With a roll of his eyes, Ron finally took the few steps and threw them to Harry. "Just because you're you, mate."

"Thanks, mate." There was nothing suspicious about having all his clothes thrown around the room. Harry's were not the only ones even though normally he kept them at least in a pile at the end of his bed.

"When did you and Ron get back?" He turned to Seamus, who lay on his bed and struggled into his pants in a most complicated way.

"Late. You were already snoring by then, Harry," Seamus contributed with a grin.

"I was?" He doubted that he had been snoring as Seamus put it. Harry was sore. Every muscle screamed in protest when he merely thought about moving from his halfway comfortable position. But he would have bet that someone must have heard his screams last night.

"Yeah." Seamus threw his towel against the inconspicuously and probably innocent magical watch. "This clock must be broken or something." Harry frowned. Or maybe nobody had heard. "As we'll all be late though," Seamus mused, "I don't think they'll take points from everyone."

"You want to bet?" Harry dragged himself toward just another shower to loosen up his muscles under a hot stream of water until his skin was as red as Ron's hair. When he came back, already clad in his sack-like pants and a worn out T-shirt, Ron and Dean were the only ones still there. His socks were dripping wet, but no one commented on them as Harry still looked somewhat drowsy.

"It's a pity you all miss breakfast." Ron grinned instead and Harry gazed at him, a bit more awake. Clearly Ron waited for them to ask a question.

"And you won't?" Dean did this small favor only half interested, his gaze directed at Harry.

"Nope." Ron was gloating. "I have a free lesson and I swear I'll be sitting in the kitchen eating chocolate cake the whole time." He said it and sprawled back, his arms crossed behind his head in a pose that clearly told them he had it better then they. Dean and Harry looked at each other and two pillows hit Ron in the face.

"Why are you still here, Dean?" Harry slid into his old shoes while Ron towered the pillows behind his head. Most likely they would have a pillow fight to get them back in the evening. Seamus would be furious; after all, it was his pillow Harry had thrown.

"I have Transfiguration too, Harry, so I thought we'd go together and get each only half the points taken off." Dean shrugged. "We're already late anyway so a few minutes more or less won't matter."

"No. Not to us, anyway." Harry grinned, put his robe on and gripped his bag. He always threw in everything school-related he owned. It saved time to search for his books in different places and he did not forget anything. What were they in a magical world if not to use magic? Harry turned back to Ron, grinned once and winked and reminded him to say hi to Dobby for him, and then he and Dean hurried to their first class of the week.

Their head of house was not too keen to see them this late, although Harry thought she had better be glad to see them at all. When he looked around, Harry noticed for a first that not even Hermione was with him in this class, and while he did not necessarily need her to help him, now Harry would have to play even more stupid when trying to grasp spells on his own. He and Dean sat in the back not too far away from Malfoy. Harry could hear him muttering about stupid Gryffindors being favored when each one of them only got five points taken off for their unpunctuality. He could barely refrain from snorting out loud.

Taking out his parchment and quill, Harry concentrated on what his professor said, but she just repeated every spell they had learnt last year, revising each of them very shortly, let them do it once and hurried on to the next to be ready with last years work when this class was over, so she could go on to the new stuff. With a sigh, Harry leaned back. He supposed it would go on like this in most classes this week, save DADA and potions of course. In DADA they had learnt nothing worth repeating and Snape would think that the dunderheads he taught never learnt anyway, so there would be no repeat of anything ever. Harry smirked. Potions could be fun. Harry would need to think of something to do that Snape would not forget, something that would make him exceptionally glad that Harry would not continue after this month. He would see what popped into his mind in time.

Half of class was over already when McGonagall seemed to realize that Harry's attention was slipping and he found himself being quizzed by his stern-looking professor. So Harry did his bit of wand waving when she asked, shrugged his shoulders, completely clueless, when she asked him about the peculiarities he had to take into account when changing a small object into a big animated one, and otherwise Harry kept his nose down on his empty parchment from then on and tried to look busy. Save a few doodles here and there, he had no need to take notes of anything. Harry could do those spells in his sleep. The curriculum for this year was not that hard either. Skipping through the book had not brought forth any surprising revelations, so Harry was left to ponder last night and this morning.

How he had managed to live through the summer was puzzling to him now. How could he have reached the amount of control he had then when now Harry had barely been able to keep his consciousness? He had even used his magic on Vernon, but how? Harry rolled his shoulders and grimaced. The pain was still there. He always had to keep going no matter what happened, but he really did not like it. It was disturbing to know that Hogwarts was …there, but truly disturbing was to know that it could play around with him like that. Harry had to keep going. He did not think that the castle would help Tom. If everything that happened yesterday was any indication Hogwarts did not seem to like Tom very much. However, it was of no relief for Harry. Why had it not helped him then all the times before when Tom had attacked?

Harry could not imagine to figure out what it had done to make everyone sleep through his screaming or to keep them from waking. He had screamed his throat raw for Merlin's sake, but even though every move hurt like hell, his throat was all right. He had no problems talking. There was something else still on his mind. The magic that had been swirling around their dormitory must have had an impact on all the people in the near vicinity. The powerful among the castle's residents like Dumbledore at least and also some of the teachers must have felt something, or maybe Hermione had. Harry could find more like this everywhere, but he had to keep going.

It was a very distracted Harry that finally gathered up his utensils at the end of the class and followed Dean to their next lesson for the day that would be Herbology. Somewhere along the way to the greenhouses, Neville joined the two Gryffindors. His cheeks were red and he stumbled more than once in obvious excitement. Harry shook his head when he helped the boy to his feet for a second time. There was no question that Neville could barely wait to get to the greenhouses and his hands on some obscure plant. They did not do much this time around in this class either.

The three boys were the only Gryffindors around among lots of Ravenclaws, a single Hufflepuff and a handful of Slytherins, one of them sneering at Harry in his generally stuck up attitude, his nose up in the greenhouse's ceiling. Harry hoped that Malfoy was not going to be in all of his classes. He grinned when the blond Slytherin rubbed the spot on his chest where he had been so unfortunately hit by Harry's magic lashing out. Clearly ferret face still remembered what had happened. It was a relief for now as it meant that Malfoy would keep a wide berth around him, hopefully, but then Malfoy was known to be more stupid and rash than cunning.

Herbology was downright boring today. Harry could only wonder at the devotion Neville showed when they were just cutting down a big bushy plant that was growing rampant and would shortly pierce the roof with its tentacle-like branches. Neville did not even step back when that gooey yellow substance pulsed out of the just cut tentacles before they closed off a moment later, hardening when subjected to air. Harry and Dean glanced at each other. They had not been disappointed when Neville volunteered to do this job. Funnily Malfoy was not that lucky. It was too bad that once Harry needed Colin's camera the boy was not anywhere in sight, but when he did not want the fifth year around that boy would keep tracking him like some dog sniffing out a trace.

Malfoy and his goons getting buckets full of that sticky fluid on his head was the most interesting thing that happened. Harry and Dean already gathered up their bags and moved to the exit when they realized that Neville kept back to speak with the professor. Harry thought to wait for him, but when Sprout waved him away Harry did not linger. If it was important then Neville would tell them eventually.

Lunch broke Harry out of his melancholic mood, but only because he felt the hairs in his neck rising when someone's gaze followed him to the Gryffindor table. Even then did it not wander away to watch someone more worthwhile but stayed on him even while Harry sat down next to Ron and Hermione. He gripped his fork tightly to fill his plate with some roasted chicken.

At last though, Harry had enough of being stared at and he looked up and directly into the dark narrowed eyes of a glaring Potions Master. Harry scowled just as darkly. What must Snape have felt last night? The man looked no different than before. He was always pale and gaunt-looking. He always sneered or frowned and glared at everyone. So what was it? Harry had not been stared at like that for a long time and if he had not known better he would have thought that Snape was legilimizing him. Stupid bastard. Could he not eat his lunch like everyone else? Harry raised his glass of pumpkin juice toward the man, toasted him and swallowed with a smirk. Finally the man turned away. Really, what had that been? Then Harry let his gaze wander and he frowned. Dumbledore was, for once, not staring at the Gryffindor table, but his blue twinkling gaze was watching Snape in nearly the same scrutinizing way Snape had measured up Harry. Clearly the old man was aware that Snape had, for whatever reason, taken particular interest in Harry Potter today. Harry did not doubt that they all were slowly making themselves crazy. If Harry would be anywhere else but directly under their noses when that happened it would be worth a laugh or two.

Snorting, Harry turned back to his own table and spotted Neville a few places down from him. The boy looked somewhat distraught and his gaze often flickered between his plate and the head table uncomfortably. Harry would have asked him what the matter was, but as the boy sat too far away and shouting at him would not be very helpful, Harry only frowned thoughtfully before he gave his chicken the attention it deserved.

It was only a few minutes later, they were nearly done with their lunch and ready to go on to their next class, when Hermione suddenly looked up at Ron.

"You won't forget the prefects meeting, Ron?" She stared at him indifferently, and Harry raised his head. This was news to him.

"How could I forget when you remember me of this stupid meeting every five minutes?" Ron rolled his eyes and turned back to his food. It was, in his eyes, clearly more important than what a few prefects had the need to blather about.

"When?" Harry asked simply.

"Every second Monday at five," Hermione said agreeably, relieved that someone was taking their prefect's duty seriously, even if it was not the one who should. "And Ron will be sure to attend or he'll do his homework all by himself until the next meeting."

Harry grinned and kept his silence. Ron would have no choice but to comply with her wishes, and he looked as if he knew this, because he grumbled quietly and nodded before he shoved his plate away and stood up as Hermione and Harry were long since finished with their lunch.

"You as a prefect need to set an example, Ron." Hermione frowned when she followed him.

"Yeah. Could we just talk about something else now?" The redhead turned to Harry. "I want to know what you think of that Bradowitch, Harry."

"I don't know yet, Ron. You're the one who had a lesson with him already." Harry gave Hermione an apologetic shrug but did not mind helping Ron out. One for the other, and both of them against Hermione. Harry laughed silently.

"Yeah, but do you think he's someone of the minister? Like Umbitch?"

"I doubt that, Ron. Really. It would be all over the castle by now. There'd be no way to keep that information to himself. After last year's debacle I doubt they'd let Fudge chose anyone he approves of as a teacher." Harry thought back to the scrutinizing look Brado had measured him with time and time again. "No, I don't think he's Fudge's, but he's not really as dumb a dunderhead as he wants everyone to believe," he furthered. "He's working wholly on his own agenda, or not for one we know." Harry's thoughts kept getting back to the Red Robes, but he did not say anything.

"A cross between Lockhart and Crouch then?" Ron grinned, but shuddered at the same time.

"Don't discount Umbridge, totally. Her personality traits are not that unique."

"I don't like that picture, Harry. That's gross." Ron grinned brightly nevertheless.

"Guys, we had one lesson with him." Hermione still wasn't fond of gossiping about teachers, unless it implied homework or lessons. "He might really know the stuff he's teaching." They did have that talk before. Well, now they would see what happened – or Harry would; the others already had more or less successfully.

"Yep, I think you're right." Harry grinned when both of his friends turned to watch him suspiciously. "When you don't look at his robe or his hair, think away the way he speaks and what actually comes out of that big mouth, then wash that fool grin off his face and take his way to pat everyone he walks in on the head and you might – just perhaps – be right. So I'll give you the shadow of the doubt." Ron sniggered and even Hermione could not suppress her lips twitching. "I just don't like him." Harry became serious once more. "There's something utterly wrong with him." He could not tell them that it was his magic or the feeling deep inside him, that made his stomach turn whenever that man was near him, that had him alarmed. Hermione would leap on to the trail and Ron would behave as badly toward Brado in class as in the corridors with Malfoy. It would be a bit too obvious, and Harry desperately wanted to avoid any more attention than he already had.

Harry let his friends pass through the door in front of him, and then he stepped in and blinked. Brado was already there, leaning against his desk, brightly grinning at the entering students, but that was not what caught Harry's attention. It was his robes that made him take a second look at his professor. Brado's robes had the same strange cut like the one his son had worn the first day. The stars and moons had disappeared and instead of being of a piercing bright blue they were now light blue grey robes, cool to the eyes and soothing to heated minds. Harry felt himself loosing his feelings' edge looking at them as if he had swallowed one of Aunt Petunia's valiums. Frowning, Harry shook his head. This was not right. When he concentrated Harry almost believed he saw the magic interwoven, but it hurt his eyes and head and a moment later when the man moved toward him Harry's concentration wavered and whatever he had thought he glimpsed was gone.

As soon as Brado became aware of Harry, his posture stiffened, the stupid grin broadened and he stepped up hurriedly before the boy could slip away between his friends.

"Finally, I have you in my class, my dear boy." The piercing look with which he sized up the new student gave no comfort or even the slightest cause to go hopefully into their encounter, but Harry smiled politely as it was expected.

"I missed you dearly, my boy." With a firm click Harry pressed his jaw together to keep from cursing that unbelievable person into oblivion and smiled very politely.

"Thank you, sir." Harry answered with forced serenity into the low sniggering from his classmates. He thought it would go too far to say that he had missed him just as much. Harry's eyes shone darkly and he ignored his classmates completely as he tried to get to his place.

"I'm truly glad to be finally able to teach you, my boy." Brado could not seem to leave him be. He would have shaken his hands had Harry not clasped them determinedly behind his back. "We'll work great together in this class, my boy."

"Call me Potter, please." The lesson had not even started and already he wanted to hit that man …hard. His lips pressed tightly closed. Harry joined Ron and Hermione in the last row of benches after the bell rescued him from more stupidity than he could take. Seamus and Neville, who sat in front of them, gazed questioningly back at him. The former mouthed a silent 'my boy' with obvious amusement and a roll of his eyes. Harry could not find it the least bit funny. With a look that could cut steel, Harry followed the impossible man's movement as he strutted to the front of the class to start his lesson.

"Now that we're all present this time," and the twinkling blue eyes swept over to were Harry hunched sceptically down in his seat, "we'll start with our first major project this year." He took a breath for effect, but no one reacted. Brado pulled a face and sat down behind his desk with a flourish. His gaze skimmed over every single of his sceptical students and lastly met the dazzlingly green ones of Harry Potter and held it.

"It's very important to keep your equilibrium when faced with danger," he said in a conspiratorial voice. "In a duel you have lost when you lose control of your emotions. Therefore, children," he said with a cheerful grin, "you will learn to, as it's commonly called, Listen." Murmurs rose in the class and a few snickers from the Slytherins, Malfoy amidst them, rang loudly through the room. Brado ignored it and kept watching the Harry Potter solemnly.

"The technical term to what we're going to start this double lesson is _Repelucis._" He smiled, good-natured. "However, that has no meaning but to make it sound harder than it is. Listening is the right word for what we're going to start this lesson." With a shake of his head Brado waited for the whispers to stop before he explained in more detail.

"It doesn't sound so terrific you think?" His bright blue eyes twinkled disturbingly.

"Sir?" It was Hermione's hand in the air, waving frantically about, a deep frown settled on her face. She spoke as soon as Brado gave her the permission with slight nod, his twinkle intensified.

"To what are we learning to …Listen, sir?"

"Now, that's a question for my likes, Ms. Granger." He rubbed his hands gleefully and even stopped staring at her green-eyed friend for a moment. "Five points to Gryffindor for keeping thinking." His eyes sought out the boy's narrowed ones. "You're going to learn to listen to your magic." He grinned as if he had accomplished a really hard prank.

Harry thought the others might hear him gritting his teeth because now it was finally quiet with expectations. Even Malfoy looked as if he was not sure if this was some bad joke to all their expense or if their fool of a professor actually meant what he said. Listening to their Magic? What a bunk! Harry concentrated on his professor's words, feeling the gaze still on him. His hands clenched tightly, Harry sat back. He hoped this lesson would be over soon.

"Before you can handle your magic to its utmost effect." Brado did not seem to notice the dark mood one of his students emanated from every pore. "You need to know how your magic works. I know you used your magical power since first year more or less successfully, but believe me when I say that not one of you is using its full potential. If you know your magic you can handle it with more care, precision and strength. You'll wonder what you'll be able to do in a short amount of time."

"Sir? I have never heard of anything like that." Hermione frowned, her distress obvious in her expression. It must rattle her foundations of belief that everything was to be found in books.

"Well, Ms. Granger, you won't find many books on this subject, I admit. Therefore it would probably be fortunate for all of you, children," he turned to the class, "to make notes now lest you fail your future assignments in this class." The man's eyes sparkled and he watched Harry Potter bend down his head over a stack of parchments, the right hand forcefully gripping his quill as if trying to break it.

"It's not generally dangerous process, but while learning something new there's always the possibility that something untoward can happen that you will have no way to prevent. So keep in mind that it's important to hold your body still – when you move while you're sensitive to your magic it can happen that, while you're still getting used to your inner power, you lose your hold on it when your magic starts coming forward. If you, say, twitch your finger your magic will have an easier outlet through this body part and you may be a finger shorter afterwards. It's similar to accidental magic that happens to small children but of course with more power and more destructive energy." He grinned with obvious amusement. "That you lose control over your magic at least once is possible to happen when you first manage to Listen successfully anyway." He winked as if that was nothing to worry about. The faces of his students became paler by the minute.

"The second important fact you always need to remember is that you must stay relaxed even when you feel the whisper of your magic and when it seems to overwhelm you. Do not become tense, because then it will probably get quite painful for you to continue, though you can't stop amidst it … you might yourself find a whole head shorter, and not even your very competent mediwitch will be able to help you then."

"Why can't we stop?" questioned a Ravenclaw right along when someone else from the back of the class muttered that it may be a tad bit dangerous for them to undertake in class."

"Don't let your horses run away, children." Brado smiled brightly. "After all, I'll be there to watch over you and I doubt that more than a handful of you are able to pull it of at the end of the year."

"Why have us do it then?" Malfoy sneered and this time Brado answered brightly.

"Because, young Mr. Malfoy, should you be among those who manage this feat successfully you'll have a very powerful tool at hand." His smile then became something different, threatening even. "So you'd do well to at least try to accomplish this, as power obviously is what you seek, is it not?"

"To know how to listen to your magic will come in value in countless situations in your life." He turned back to the class when Malfoy silently stared at him. "When you listen to your magic you'll get the utmost out of the power that was given you by nature. You'll need less sleep and heal faster. You'll become notably stronger than the average citizen of this world in magic and mind and generally you'll live in unison with nature and your life. Its benefits are tremendous. Wizards and witches who are known to do this regularly slowed even down the aging of their bodies." He smiled at Malfoy in a somewhat indulgent way that made the Slytherin stick up his nose even more. "For the beginning, Mr. Malfoy, you might find yourself feeling refreshed, and most importantly your magic will answer more easily to your bidding."

"Your question, Mr. Boot, is quite interesting, though. You ask why you shouldn't interrupt the process? Because just as you call the magic forward you need to push it down, and gently so, or it will remain just under the surface until your emotions run away with you. Happiness, anger or anything else – all extremes of feelings – make this work. Through your emotions your magic will find an outlet and the girl you were just about to kiss, Mr. Boot, will have her lips burnt. That's not the way of gentlemen, isn't it? So always finish what you begin." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully and leaned back finally when he remembered where he had stopped in his explanations. He halted further questions with a sharp gesture.

"Let me finish first, children." He grinned broadly. "My memory is not that good at all. Yes?" He nodded when all the hands were taken down – even Ms. Granger's after he sent a pleading smile into her direction. "Fine. Let's come to an end with the theory before this lesson is over, shall we?" His eyes flickered toward Harry Potter, but the boy was still scribbling away whatever doodles he thought more interesting, though the stiff pose he held his body told that he listened despite of him feigning disinterest.

"The third fact to not forget when you're about to Listen is that before you even start you must have your mind set on what you want to reach, what you want your magic to do. When you firmly believe that you can do something you will be able to do it when the time is right."

"To learn how to do it correctly you need to relax your body and mind totally and you have to concentrate solely on your magic. If your mind wanders in the beginning that is nothing to worry about, just get back to your initial thoughts and let yourself become totally absorbed by your magic. Do it to the best you can. We'll start the practical side during the next lesson. Any questions for now?" He smiled brightly. "Ms. Granger?"

"Doesn't that …_Repelucis_ sound awfully close to meditation?"

"Another five points to Gryffindor, Ms. Granger. You're a bright lass." He looked around the class, ignoring the snickers more successfully than a thoroughly embarrassed Hermione. "Does anyone know how to meditate?" No one raised his hand, but a Slytherin muttered something about stupid Muggles that Brado chose to ignore. "No? That's a pity." Momentarily his eyes lost their twinkle, but then he grinned and the bell chimed the end of the first DADA lesson.

Students run about, bent their heads together or hurried out of the class to gossip about this year's DADA professor and how long he might possibly last. For Harry the break was short and bothersome. Not once he felt relief from the boring gaze that tore into him. Half-heartedly he listened to Neville's fearful imaginations of his near future. Seamus and Ron were talking nonsense and Hermione had her nose buried in her notes to reread and memorize everything knew she had come about.

As soon as the next lesson started Brado seemed to get excited. "Now you had a few minutes to think over what you learnt today. Any more questions then? No?" He rubbed his hands gleefully. "Then let's do it. All of you close your eyes, children." All he received were blank gazes. "Close your eyes." He nodded appreciatively when the first few students followed his instruction, then he glared at those who thought him a fool. "Mr. Malfoy, if you do not happen to be part of this class feel free to go and don't bother to come back, but if you are indeed a student of this class then close your eyes now or you'll lose not only a hundred points from Slytherin, you'll fail this class with a total points of zero and a big troll for you grade once this year is over."

His eyes closed, Harry silently grinned as he listened to Brado talking that arrogant bastard down to his right size. He solemnly acknowledged all the instructions the professor gave them, but Harry would not do more than wait for the time to pass. He could still feel Brado staring at him and it was all he could do not to jump up and scratch out his eyes.

"Visualize your magic rising from its core where it was resting, imagine it flowing through your body until you can feel it in every part of your body. Feel it in you, let it come to you, call it to the surface and hold it. When you know that you're totally filled up with your magic, then open your mind and try to Listen. I don't know what you will hear. It's not words or anything like that. Magic is not a separate being; it's part of you. With time, you will find easier ways to access your magic, you'll be more aware of it and it will be easier to control. Of course, that's not going to happen from one day to the next."

Harry could hear the sound of his boots when the man walked around the room. He really doubted that even one student was doing anything but trying not to fall asleep – well, maybe Hermione and a few of the Ravenclaws. Then the steps halted next to him and the next Harry heard was the slightly disappointed voice of Brado right at his ear.

"My boy, daydreaming will not bring you closer to accomplishing this task." Harry's eyes snapped open. "The choice is yours, my boy. Choose wisely." He moved as if to pet him on the head and Harry jerked back and frowned without saying anything. He closed his eyes again and ignored the face, still hovering above him, as good as he could. However, he did not try to listen to anything. He had trouble already listening away from his magic. Harry did not need another accidental power release in this class, though he had to admit that it did sound interesting if he wanted to take for granted what the man was telling them. So the only thing Harry visualized was this stupid peacock while Harry plucked out every single one of its feathers before he stuffed them into its mouth. It was an hour of time for Harry to think of different ways to get rid of this stupid DADA professor. As far as Harry could tell, no one accomplished anything in this lesson. They sat with their eyes closed, trying to listen to whatever whisper they could catch. At one point Seamus started to snore exceptionally loud and fake and the rest of the students woke up with laughter. Through all of this Harry was under tight scrutiny, but he clenched his hands under the table and endured it until finally even Brado seemed to have enough of his endless repetitions of "imagine this" and "visualize that" to help his students in their lost task.

Collecting the homework brought better results. Ron groaned and plucked out a crumbled piece of parchment. Hermione gazed at him with silent admonishment and took it to bring it forward along with her own pile of work she had done. Harry waited to be called on, but either Brado did not care that Harry had not done any work because of his absence or he had forgotten to cross out the names in his stupid list. However, Harry would not do any homework he did not have to do.

The last thing of interest was Malfoy trying to talk out his way of neglecting to do his own part of assigned work. Ron and Harry grinned at each other when Brado beamed at the arrogant Slytherin in companionable mood.

"No reason to worry, Mr. Malfoy," he said lightly and padded the boy's hair only to frown at his hand and rub it at his robe to get the gel off. "I'll just grade you on your progress in _Repelucis_ when we have the next lesson. Please prepare a short report to explain us the use and value and its means to accomplish it additionally." Then he waved as if to chase away an especially annoying pet and with the ring of the bell Malfoy marched out of the room, his features set angrily and his goons in his wake.

Harry was just as fast to pack his own things, but he was not fast enough. He was about to follow his friends when he found himself called back.

"My boy, please." Brado gazed down at Harry with that mad twinkle fully returned and even followed him when Harry made no sign to stop and rushed out of the classroom. Still the man managed to step into his way and Harry halted his exasperation short from breaking out.

"It was a real pleasure teaching you, my boy." Harry blinked. He was too busy staring at his professor's robes to mind that he found his hand clasped in a tight grip and shaken fervently. The robes had changed when Brado stepped out of the classroom and Harry bet that they changed back when he entered. The stars and moons were back together with the bright blending blue that made everyone avert their eyes.

"I hope you take this lesson to heart." Brado blathered on. Harry sighed heavily and finally drew back his hand when the man's grip relaxed marginally and his grin broadened. "I wish you a good day, my boy." While his gaze followed until Brado has stepped back into the classroom, Harry meant to understand a slight murmur of: "I wish he'd call me Nik." With a shudder Harry turned hurriedly and caught up with his friends.

"What did Brabitchi want now?"

"Nothing." Harry grunted. "Just being a pain."

"And what do you think of that class of his?" Ron grinned at him with a wide yawn.

"I'm not sure yet." Harry shrugged noncommittally. Outside of class Brado was a total moron, inside he was adept at what he was teaching – at least it seemed so. Although Brado still wore this attitude of being an ignorant there, it did not feel honest in class. That guy was a walking paradox, and that did not make it any easier to stand the looks Harry was continuously measured with. Whatever that man's problem was, Harry did not want to take part of it. He would stay far away from him and his son; the looks he was getting from them were simply wrong.

"I found it really interesting for once," Hermione said satisfied.

"I thought you said he'd talk nonsense?" Harry frowned when he caught up with his friends.

"On Friday he was, Harry." Hermione pulled a face. "Maybe he was just …waiting for you." She gazed at him with a thoughtful frown.

"I believe that." Harry snorted, but he did.

"Whatever the reason, finally we had a decent lesson." Hermione was not disappointed if her smile was anything to go by.

"What? You call staring at the wall and doing nothing a decent lesson?"

"Well, Ron, you weren't supposed to do nothing. You should have done as the Professor had said." She frowned. "What were you staring at anyway? Your eyes were supposed to be closed."

"I'd have fallen asleep." Ron argued. "He's worse than Umbitch."

"No, he isn't." Hermione hugged her books defensively.

"I don't know." Harry said morosely. "But whatever, even Umbridge had not been staring at me like I'm green-skinned and from Mars."

"Right you are, Harry." Then he frowned. "Are you?"

"He's not even trying to hide that he's staring at me the whole time. The other professors noticed it already and it's not even been a full week that we're back in school." And he thought mainly about the way Snape had stared and how Dumbledore had watched him in turn. "Whenever I'm in the same room as that peacock I'm feeling as if he's going to vivisect me while I'm still moving."

"But look at what he taught us! We learnt more today than in the whole last year." Hermione waved her parchments full of notes in front of their noses.

"But Hermione, I trust Harry." Ron calmed her down. "He's generally better at reading people than you are."

"That's so not true, Ron." Hermione was becoming aggravated.

"And Lockhart? It's just your hormones, Hermione, you're sixteen now, it's normal."

"Ron! You make it sound as if I ran after everyone wearing trousers!"

"Well, you --"

"Ron, stop! Think about what you want to say." Hermione held her hand up, her voice resolute and her eyes flashing. "Then think again, because if you finish that sentence you'll be doing your homework on your own for the rest of the year."

"Oops." Ron swallowed with an apologetic glance toward Harry and mouthed a _sorry_. "I think you're right after all, Hermione."

"Fine, then let's go to the common room now." Hermione sped up. "We need to go if we want to pack away our things, Ron," she added when the redhead made no move other than to slowly trudge along with Harry.

"Whatever's the hurry for?" he asked uncomprehending.

"Ron!" Now she was truly vexed. "We have the prefects' meeting in about half an hour!" Then she hurried off without them. "I won't run to get there, so get a move on, Ron," she called back impatiently.

"I'll think of you, my friend." Harry mourned him and grinned when the redhead shot him a dark look. As if it had not been enough to sit through a whole day of school, now Ron had to sit through some stupid meeting too.

Harry could not help but laugh when Ron hastened to follow Hermione. Until now the day had not been so bad. He had not caught a trace of Tom or Hogwarts – not that Harry had touched the castle again after this disturbing experience last night. The next hour Harry lay back on his bed and relaxed his screaming muscles. A day of moving had helped, but he was still sore to the bone.

When Harry met Ron and Hermione at dinner in the great hall his friend's muttering about stupid, useless meetings was loud enough to entertain the whole table all the while he stuffed himself with food. Hermione did not even reprimand him on his eating habits, too angry with him because he actually fell asleep during the meeting. Harry grinned slightly but left them to their argument. He had enough fights on his own to withstand.

Cautious, Harry glanced at the head table. Nowadays it seemed there was nowadays always someone keeping an eye or two on him from this direction. It was downright stupid. This time it was Brado gazing at him in that disturbing intense way that was so Dumbledore-like. Not enough with that, though, because Snape had for once his eyes not directed to the Gryffindor table but was observing Brado himself with a sneering expression of dislike on his face. Harry shook his head. He chose to enjoy his dinner. However strange the adults at this place were becoming, Harry refused to worry about them. His two main problems were quiet for once and Harry was not ready to exchange one problem for another.

The evening brought no new revelations. With Ron at his side Harry did not fear that Hermione asked uncomfortable questions, though originally Harry thought that her curiosity must be satisfied for now. After all he had all but cried on her – well, nearly. Harry did not ask what books she was poring over. It was too early to get her really involved in anything she did not bring up herself. That she was all goody with the peacock did not help in any way.

The pillow fight in the evening was short and did not deserve the name. Harry refused to take part and occupied the bathroom to shower and change. When he came back his pillow was gone and Seamus was winking at him innocently while Neville and Dean kept their own pillows firmly hugged. Ron had still two. Seamus had obviously been too lazy to get back his own and had opted for Harry's. Harry shrugged, made a pile of his robes and pushed them in the crook of his neck. Five minutes after he had closed his eyes a pillow landed on his face accompanied with the words "You're no fun, Harry." But at least he now had a pillow. Smiling, Harry turned around to sleep. For once he did not fear to be awoken by a raging Tom. This would be a good night.

It was a good night too, at least until Harry dreamt and woke up gasping for breath, not knowing what had made his heart race. He lay back, but he could not find the right mind to sleep again. Tom was only but a small presence in the back of his head, he gave no trouble, but still. It was one in the morning when Harry finally grabbed his invisibility cloak and made his way to the library. If he was awake already he could at least do something useful with his time and get to know what new mysteries the restricted section held this year around.

It was then when Harry met Malfoy sneaking around the corners. He poked his head in here and there to catch a student out after curfew, probably wanting to blackmail a fellow Slytherin or curse and take points from anyone else. Harry could not help himself but pull down his hood when he stood right behind him.

"Boo," Harry said quietly. He still got lucky to see Malfoy jumping up, not able to suppress a cry of surprise, before the Slytherin jerked around wide eyed, his wand pointed to where Harry's body should be.

"Potter!" he all but growled.

"Malfoy." Harry grinned calmly and shook his head. "I must say you are a really sorry excuse of a wizard, especially for one with already poor blood." He tilted his head thoughtfully. "I didn't know that you could squeal like a girl." It looked funny to see all pale Malfoy with a face turned Weasley-red. It was a relief that Harry did not feel the magic around people anymore. If he got lucky he could catch a glimpse of their auras, but to be freed from practically being driven to insanity when stupid airheads like Malfoy had no control about their magic was a tremendous help to keep himself working.

"You'll pay, scar head." Malfoy raised his wand and seemed to call out the first spell that came to mind when Harry gestured through the air and stopped effectively whatever Malfoy had to say. For a moment he was baffled that his own magic had worked that well, but then, Harry had not thought or worried about, he had just done it.

"Of course, Malfoy," Harry said softly. "Everyone pays, don't you think?" He smirked darkly and took a step toward the silent Slytherin. "What would your daddy say, I wonder." Harry took another step forward. "How are you doing, Malfoy? Your chest any better? Not feeling a slight … tingling anymore, are you?" he pointed to his chest and suppressed a smirk when Malfoy stepped instinctively back, his eyes narrowed, but cautious. Malfoy had never been very brave. "The bruise is healing well I hope." Harry frowned when Malfoy kept his silence, but then he grinned.

"Oh, of course." Harry smiled happily. "I forgot that you can't answer." Harry made a show to pull out his wand, wave it dramatically and remove the silencing charm he had cast on mere instinct.

"I'll show you, scar head." Malfoy scowled while backing away. "Just you wait."

"That's nice, ferret," Harry said lightly and smiled calmly. "I'm ready when you are. Don't make me wait too long though, poor blood, or I might show you first." Harry grinned when Malfoy retreated faster. It was a pity that Malfoy had little to no guts within his bones. Harry would have liked a little sparring match between the two of them with no one there to witness. Maybe that was what had Malfoy running. Harry should not have looked that eager. It was a nice feeling to start things for once, to be the one in control not the one controlled. The Slytherin had not even tried to take points from him for being out after curfew. Harry looked forward to their next meeting.

Harry waited until the pitiful blonde was out of his sight. Then he shrugged back under his invisibility cloak and, with a final laugh, hurried toward the library. He wanted to borrow at least one or two promising books before he made his way back to the common room. He needed something to occupy his time until the morning. With Malfoy running rampant it was not to say if he was not stupid enough to get a teacher to see if everyone was in their appointed rooms.


	41. Chapter 40 : Tuesday Lessons

**Title:** Harry Potter and the Summer's Secret

_**Author:** Japhu_

_**Beta Reader:** antipyro_

_**Pairing:** HPSS_

_**Rating:** R_

_**Disclaimer:** I own nothing of Harry Potter and his world and don't make any money with it._

_**Summary:** For one week in summer Harry disappears without trace. When he comes back he claims to have no memory. But something happened and it changed him. It remains to be seen if for the better or the worse. (will be HPSS)_

_**Category:** action/adventure/angst_

_**Feedback:** highly appreciated_

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**Chapter 40 – Tuesday Lessons **

Harry spent the rest of the night reading through the books he had brought from the library. He realized just what a mass of work he had loaded upon his shoulders. Unfortunately he could not expect all answers coming forward during the first days. Last night's trip to the library had not truly helped, but at least Harry now could cross out two more books of the thousands he had still to research. Without his proverbial luck Harry would read through the whole library and follow dozens of false trails before he finally found the one that took him further down his path.

When the morning rose and the first life stirred in the dormitory Harry felt not overly tired. From staring too long at the same point his eyes burned, though, so he put his more or less useless lecture away for now. Watching Seamus rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Harry made his way to the door. Only when Seamus saw him finally he pointed toward Ron.

"The honour's all yours." Harry grinned with a wink to Seamus. "Get him up, would you?"

"My pleasure, Harry," Seamus saluted. He blinked when he found Harry already clothed and ready but shrugged it off with a yawn. The sandy-haired boy literally jumped at the opportunity to bring Ron back from the dead. Running up to him, Seamus landed on Ron's bed rather heavily. The last Harry heard before he closed the door was loud laughter and lots of colorful curses that followed him all the way down the stairs.

Surprisingly Ron did not need nearly as long as Hermione to get down into the common room. Seamus had managed quite a good job throwing Ron out of his bed. Only half an hour later they found themselves in the great hall. Harry glanced fleetingly up at the head table, but other than McGonagall there were no professors present who deserved his attention. For a moment Harry was not sure if he should be glad about that or not. He certainly did not like being stared at, but he liked to know where everyone was digging around.

Shaking his head, Harry watched lazily as Ron used every minute left in the fruitless effort to fill his stomach to satisfy his growing body's need.

His chin in hand, Harry did not even bother to get up from the table when Hermione gathered her morning lecture. Ron frowned darkly while Harry made sure to rub his own free period in his grumbling friend's face. Ron hurried off to his first class even as he stuffed an extra croissant into his mouth and another in his bag for a snack during lesson. Seamus, the only other Gryffindor who had this period free, trudged up to the tower to take up his interrupted sleep again. He had always been more of a night owl. There was no sense to change it now.

Left on his own, Harry wandered around aimlessly through the castle. However, he avoided the dungeons and the corridor where the DADA classroom was. He truly could do without searching out one of those interfering bastards.

Shaking the thoughts away, Harry made his way silently through the well-known part of the castle. He relished in the rare quietness that surrounded him. When he closed his eyes and listened there was only the occasional whisper from a portrait or a slight creaking noise when one of the tower stairs moved. Harry felt as if he was the only one living in this castle – he and his shoes. He amended ruefully. Harry should have glued the bottom, but it was a remembrance too. All things were temporally. Quite in tact with his shuffling feet, Harry breathed deeply in and out. There was no whispering in the back of his head, no cackle of Tom watching. Nothing that threatened his life; everything was peaceful and good. This was Hogwarts as it always should be, not merely in between stolen moments of relaxation. In moments like this he felt home in this place.

Indulging in an instant's impulse, Harry stretched his arms out while he was still quietly walking down the empty corridor. He always held himself in the middle of the hallway, but when he concentrated on the castle and the magic he knew was there – just out of reach – he could almost feel the power that vibrated within the walls. With a frown Harry crossed his arms in front of his chest. He did not understand how it could possibly be that no one had sensed it before him. The homey feeling fled him in a breath's time.

It was still relatively early when he came back to the entrance hall, but Harry set off to his destination despite of that. After all, he had not seen Hagrid for a long time, and Care of Magical Creatures was the only thing Harry looked somewhat forward to. Not because he liked Hagrid's pets very much, but because Hagrid was a friend, somewhat simple-minded but always true to heart. It remained unsaid that as good a friend as Hagrid was he could not hold his mouth shut overly long, thus he could not be told anything important.

Slowly Harry made his way toward Hagrid's hut, but he stopped as soon as it got in sight. He should have thought about that Hagrid had a class to teach now. Harry sighed and sat down onto a lonely lump of rock, watching the half-giant bustling about a group of children, second years maybe or third. From this distance Harry could not clearly tell, though they did not seem too eager handling whatever lived in those half a dozen big wooden boxes.

However, finally the class was over, and while Hagrid gathered up the boxes and their loudly snarling occupants almost all sixth year Gryffindors arrived to their own lesson in Care of Magical Creatures among a dozen students from the other houses. Only Ron had thought himself intelligent and chose Care of Magical Creatures for his NEWTs. Although Ron did not like most of Hagrid's favourites more than anyone else it was still an easier NEWTs class than some others, and as lazy as Ron was he could need all the advantage he could get, even if he had to wrestle this aforementioned cave troll. After all, Hagrid never graded them too hard if they only looked excited enough when he brought another one of his biting, spiting or clawing pets.

With a sigh, Harry made his way to his friends and stepped beside Hermione. Seamus was the last one to crash in, his hair in disarray. Obviously the boy had enjoyed his nap nearly too long to make it in time for class, not that their teacher would mind.

Harry gave all but a small wave when Hagrid winked at him enthusiastically before he started his lesson with a booming welcome to those students who liked his animals so much that they voluntarily continued this class.

This time it was some fluffy little thing they had to cuddle and brush its fur despite its razor sharp claws. The ocelot-like creature did not like very much to be poked and prodded, but if they had to get through this so had this little fellow. Harry gripped it tightly in the neck, his hand safely out of its teeth way and rescued from its sharp claws due to the glove Harry had thankfully distributed himself with right to the beginning. According to Hagrid only the big ones were really interesting, though. All of the students breathed a sigh of relief when Hagrid put them back into their small cages in the back of his hut.

It was with a rather obvious gesture that Hagrid secretively called him over as everyone else left at the end of the lesson. Harry gave Hermione a slight nudge. After all, it was lunchtime now and they would not miss any classes if they talked a bit with their big friend. They quietly followed Hagrid in the hut, Harry with no small amount of trepidation. When Hagrid had a secret it always involved something that fought back viciously when aggravated.

"Ah, there yeh are." Hagrid's beetle-like eyes blinked good natured and fastened on Harry. "Yer doin' all righ', Harry?"

"Yep. I'm fine," Harry said lightly and changed the topic at once. "How was your summer, Hagrid? If it was only half as good as mine," Hermione jerked toward him, "then you had a lot of fun I bet."

"Oh," Hagrid shrugged noncommittally, "I jus' played a bit with Grawp, yeh know." Then his whole massive beard quivered and his laughter broke out in a low rumble. "Grawp 'as found those nice lil' tykes yeh 'ad in class. Yeh liked the purplenecks, dincha?"

"Well, other than that they had no purple necks they were really funny, Hagrid," Harry said brightly before Hermione even opened her mouth. Hagrid beamed at him.

"Yeah, I thought so." Hagrid peered out of his window before he turned back to the friends conspiratorially. "I wanna introduce yeh to so' friends of mine."

"Whom are you talking about exactly, Hagrid?" Hermione questioned cautiously. She did not look all too certain that she really wanted the answer to that just now, though.

"It's not another dragon you have hidden, isn't it?" Harry's lips twitched as he watched Hagrid frantically clasping his hands.

"No. Dumbledore wouldna le' me 'ave one," he said regretfully. "I'm not telling yeh what it is, though. Yeh come with me, Harry, won't yeh? I promise it's interesting. Yeh too, Hermione. They'll like yeh too." Hagrid looked down at them hopefully. With a suffering sigh the friends cast a last accepting gaze at each other and nodded hesitantly.

"Yes, we'll come. After our classes are over, all right, Hagrid?" They gave in to the inevitable.

"Oh, it's probably better we mee' after tha'." Hagrid suggested eagerly. "We'll walk down to 'em, yeh know. Yeh should better bring yer cloak too, Harry, with all those bad fellows around."

"They're in the Forbidden Forest?" From moment to moment Hermione looked more doubtful.

"Nah. No this time. They're on a field next to Hogsmeade, well, not one field, more a dozen. They are so big." Hagrid cried happily and then pressed his lips tightly closed. "I'm not saying anything more. It's time yeh 'ave yer lunch now, Harry. Don't forget to come back, though." Harry and Hermione looked at each other, already having second thoughts, when they found themselves unceremoniously but gently shoved out of the door.

"I bet it's highly illegal," Hermione muttered mostly to herself.

"That's granted," Harry agreed easily. "However, it's a first time that he's going to show us his little pet project voluntarily. It must be worth it." He could not help himself but grin at her expression.

"It's going to be dangerous," she murmured.

"Life threatening," Harry nodded with a smirk. The girl did not even bother to reply, but more than once on their way up to the castle she shook her head, quietly contemplating what was awaiting them this evening.

Lunch was nearly over when they finally reached the great hall. Ron was one of the few still heavily busy. He certainly used his time waiting for them to get himself an extra helping or two. Harry's stomach turned hungrily at the heavy smells that drifted through the hall.

"Where have you been, guys?" the redhead looked up finally.

"Don't ask. We tell you later, Ron." Hermione frowned. "Better get up now, though. You need to get up all the way to the north tower."

"Nah, today's Firenze," Ron mumbled barely recognizable through his food. "What's going on?"

"Hagrid's just a new pet of sort," Harry grinned and watched the students hurry of to their afternoon class. The only one who spared Harry a glance this time around was Malfoy. A pitiful sneer in place, he seemed not so sure of himself anymore while he unconsciously rubbed his chest. Harry suppressed a satisfied grunt and turned back to his friends, discounting Malfoy as unimportant. He could downright feel the blonde stomping off.

"Get a move on, Ron. Classes start in five minutes." Hermione gripped her bag more tightly and turned toward Harry. They had both charms now and Harry did not even try to delay when she pulled him out of the hall with a disapproving glance back to Ron.

It was not so late that they needed to haste to get into their respective lessons in time, but what use was it to argue about something that trivial?

Just when they were about to turn into the right corridor Harry felt a distinct tingle in the mark on his hip, distinct but known. He groaned inwardly. Snape was on his way, again. Why was it that the bastard always used the same stupid hallways Harry did? Taking a deep breath, Harry followed Hermione quietly. Back on enemy's territory it was. Well, peace was good as long it lasted. Harry gave Hermione no warning.

"Oh!" Hermione skidded to a halt abruptly just before the man knocked her over. "I'm sorry, Professor Snape," she said frowning. It was not exactly her fault that the man did not look down his big nose to see if his way was free.

"You should be, Granger," Snape snarled and his eyes narrowed when he found Harry patiently waiting behind her.

"Potter," Snape scowled. "Fifty points from Gryffindor for skipping detention."

"That's totally unfair!" Stepping forward, Harry straightened himself to his full height – what was not much. "It's not my fault… sir, that you didn't hear me." He argued free after the motto that assault was the best defence.

"Don't lie, Potter. Don't you think I'd have heard your wailing?"

"Point seven I was down at the classroom." Harry was aware of Hermione's scrutiny when he glared indignantly back at the infuriating git. "I even missed breakfast to be on time for detention." He pouted hard at the limit of being openly sarcastic.

"You arrogant…" Dark brows jumped into the sky and then Snape all but growled, "Breakfast?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded fervently, "I knocked for hours, but nobody opened."

"Are you trying to be especially witty, Potter?" Snape snarled. "Ten points from Gryffindor for that cheek. Since when do you have detentions in the morning?"

"You didn't mean in the morning?" Harry's eyes widened comically in surprise. Then he frowned. "How was I to know that, …sir?" The frown deepened. "When you… Ouch!" Harry found himself interrupted when Hermione's elbow met his side quite painfully. She had watched Harry interacting with Snape and found it past time to stop him, otherwise Harry would go on forever and truly infuriate the man.

"Sorry, Professor," Hermione said regally, "We have classes now and we really don't want to get there late."

"Ever eager to please, Granger," Snape sneered dismissively and turned toward Harry. "For you, Potter, it will be a visit with Filch. Eight o'clock this evening. Be sure to attend or it will be a hundred points from Gryffindor," he said with a dark smirk and swished away. What a bastard. Harry's lips twitched.

"And what have we learned today?" Harry grumbled lowly at his friend's reproachful gaze. "Never piss off a Potions Master."

"Come. Maybe we still get to Charms in time." Hermione's gaze was nearly as dark as Snape's when she shook her head at him. "He took an awful lot of points from you since the term started."

"You think so?" Harry grimaced. "Well, I don't believe Gryffindor's going to take the House Cup this year either. We may be fortunate if we make it among the first five participants." He grinned brightly.

"That's not funny, Harry." Hermione jerked around. "Think about what the others will say." Harry shrugged. It did not matter overly much to him. What mattered though was that he kept Snape too occupied with unimportant things to dig deeper into those Harry did not want him to dig.

"You should not provoke him deliberately," she said calmly when Harry kept quiet.

"I'm not doing that on purpose, Hermione," Harry pouted. "He's the one that can't pass me in the hallway without insulting me. I won't take this shit without getting at least a bit fun out of it." Harry winked at Hermione when she opened the classroom with the bell chiming and rushed off to take her place. With a smile Harry set down next to her.

Charms unfolded the same as Transfiguration the day before with the only difference that Flitwick left Harry to his doodles instead of giving him a wake up quiz. He counted minutes all through the lesson and ignored Hermione's persistent warnings that he would not get her notes to copy when he did not know left from right. Afterwards they parted way. Harry trudged drowsily toward Binns and Hermione hurried still wide-awake to Ancient Runes.

Harry's head sagged down as soon as he sat down. Just thinking about History made him sleepy. Binns was way better than Valium. When Seamus flopped down next to him Harry was already fast asleep. He only opened his eyes when everyone left the room at the end of the lesson and Seamus shook him awake with a bright grin before they climbed up the stairs to the common room. They had earned themselves a rest from such a stressing day.

It was an hour later when the three friends met in the common room to get their bit of homework done. It was not much, but they still needed to do it.

Very unobtrusively Harry laid a list of certain research topics on the table. It was only half of the list in question, and he placed it just out of reach of a certain bookworm, frowning it up and down very much lost in thought. Not a minute later when Harry, sighing, bit the end of his quill Hermione's curiosity got one over her and she bent down determinedly.

"What's this?" She reached for it and frowned, already reading the small paper.

"Just stuff I want to look up when I find the time." Harry appeased, slightly embarrassed to be caught studying. "Give it back to me, Hermione."

"Well," she did not look up from his list, "it sounds interesting." Finally she thoughtfully gazed at him. "Did something happen to make you want to look up this stuff?"

"Other than what you know, nothing particular." Harry shrugged. "I just thought it worth a second thought. This thing during summer that I seem to have missed somehow sounds interesting. Dumbledore said something about magical eruptions being extremely rare. It can't be wrong to read up on it, though, in case something like that happens again, well, and maturity? We're old enough to get into our powers, aren't we? It could happen any time now. I simply want to know those things before they hit me in the back, you know?" Harry sighed inwardly. Now Hermione knew at least the topics he was interested in and should she come about a book she would mark it down for him. Harry had put other obvious topics on the list as well – such as prophecies and the like, things she would believe were the most important – merely to make it less obvious than what he really wanted to know.

"That's a lot of work, Harry," the girl stated.

"I'm not going to write an essay about it." Harry rolled his eyes. "I just want to know a bit more than I do now. Not that I know much of these things to begin with. Anyway, it's not as if I have anything else to do," he said and bent toward his homework.

"That's funny, mate." Ron snorted.

"What's funny about me wanting to know more about the world I live in?" Harry jerked his head around to him with a harsh look.

"It's just not like you to spend more time in the library than on the Quidditch field." Ron shrugged and Harry blinked. Sometimes he truly wondered about his friends.

"You know, I have not even started yet," Harry said flippantly. "And anyway, maybe I want to use this head of mine for once." His eyes narrowed as he suppressed a smile. "Don't you think it's time I did when I'm supposed to kill off Voldemort?" Ron swallowed hard whatever argument had lain on his tongue.

"Sure thing, mate," the redhead weakly cleared his throat. "Thanks for reminding me."

"No problem. Anything for you, Ron." Harry grinned back and took the proffered list from Hermione after she had finished memorizing the whole thing.

Out of the corner of his eye Harry glanced at Ron. He still did not know what to do about him. As long as Harry's magic did not become stronger he had no problem with the redhead's temper, but Harry really did not plan to let Hogwarts keep all of his magic away from him forever. He would find a way to get his powers unlocked, and then he would have to deal with Ron's flaring magic. Even now, when Harry had problems to see any aura without really concentrating on it, Ron's was one of those he could recognize the easiest because of the strength of magic that powered up the flickering image of the aura, still blue and white.

Harry needed to find a way that Ron could somehow control his temper of his before Harry uncovered how to get full access to his own magic. Harry sadly could not simply go up to his friend and tell him to count to ten before he opened his mouth – especially when Malfoy was going out of his way to bait him. Not that it would help much in any case, but Harry required something to work with. It was another matter for the library; of course that one was not on the partly duplicated list he had shown Hermione but only on the list that was still safely charmed and out of harm's way for now. Harry bent down to his notes again.

Both of his friends could be great in their later lives – both in different areas and both wholly on their own. They would not possibly believe him should he try to tell them that. Harry would like to be present when they got access to their whole magical power, though. However, it was likely that they would never reach their real strength. It seemed that few people ever did so. Harry shook his head. At first he would do the homework and then, if he had time, everything else.

It was only on their way to the great hall – when they passed Filch in the hallway – that they remembered to tell Ron about Hagrid's new project. Ron listened quietly and muttered that he found Hagrid's choice of friends much lacking before he gazed up at them.

"I wasn't really invited, was I?" Ron seemed almost relieved when they shook their heads and gestured sharply when Hermione assured him that Hagrid would not possibly mind that he came along.

"No, no," Ron said good natured, "I'll rather do the rest of my homework."

"Had you done your work during the weekend, Ron, you'd have free time now," She let him know imperviously.

"Yeah, yeah." Ron gestured wildly with his fork. "Just tell me about his friends when you come back." He frowned. "Don't tell me if it has something to do with anyone called Aragog, though." Harry snorted, waved and turned around.

"You're sure you'll pass?" He asked just to be safe.

"Yeah." Ron watched Hermione going ahead and only whispered to him when she was out of listening range. "Seamus and Dean are going to meet with some friends of theirs," he grinned. "They invited me to come along."

"Oh." Harry kept his thoughts to himself. "Good to know. I tell her that you're going to bed early, all right?"

"Thanks, mate." Ron nodded avidly, keeping a weary glance on both of their walking conscience. "Don't let them eat you, whatever they are."

"Of course." Harry shrugged lightly and caught up to Hermione with a shrug in her direction that said it had only been men's talk that held him back. Calmly, the two friends made their way toward Hagrid's hut.

It was purely on accident that a small group of students passed them, younger ones, too busy with their own lives to recognize anyone not part of their world. They passed them, one of them nearly running into Harry. He stepped back to avoid being toppled to the ground in another embarrassing scene and instinctively reached out to steady himself.

It was only a second that his fingers actually skimmed the wall, but during this moment Hogwarts came back and the presence he knew lurking in the back of his head was surrounding him, brimming him with strange thoughts, impressions and needs. It almost… purred at him like a cat would purr in front of a warm fire, waiting for someone to bring her food and water. Harry tumbled and jerked back with a shudder, the students already gone as thoughtless as they had come.

"What is it, Harry?" Hermione stood right next to him, ready to give him an arm should he need it.

"Nothing. Just wondering what Hagrid has waiting for us." He grimaced. "I'm guessing it's breathing fire or something, or it eats humans."

"Yes," she said agreeably. Harry was glad she let the matter drop for now, but he was acutely aware of the sideway glances shooting his way.

"They were just so happy, you know." Harry broke their heavy silence. Hermione always needed something to think about, otherwise she would find her own topic to further. He better give her a bit to work with.

"Yes, they were." Hermione nodded. "They're children."

"I know, it's just…" Harry drew a deep, trembling breath.

"You don't need to explain, Harry." She squeezed his arm comfortingly. "It's all right. Let's go down to Hagrid now." She frowned at him until Harry pulled himself visibly together and stepped out of the castle with a determined nod.

When Harry passed the doors there was a short moment when he was almost aware of the castle without even touching it – as if it was probing him, testing him for something – but he took another step and the feeling was gone. However, what it implicated now was in no way better than all the times he felt the castle's foreign presence before, though he now became aware of something as if a light had turned on. It had been only for an instant that he felt the magic surging through his body. It was an instant too short for his body to visibly react in any way, but Harry knew then that whatever Hogwarts wanted it did not the least bit care what happened to him. This crazy box played with him! It turned his magic on and off like it pleased. No more! Harry could not walk through a corridor while suddenly falling unconscious. This had to stop. Was Hogwarts it simply stupid or too… inhuman? A bit of responsibility and reticence would be nice, nevertheless it was fine when Hogwarts did not feel concerned at all about Harry's problems. It probably found Tom and him quite amusing. He doubted that it had come upon a pair like them for some time.

As soon as Harry knew what to expect from someone – or something – he could try preparing for it. Even in his early childhood Harry had been the only one who truly cared what happened to Harry. It was sad to see that this had not changed, but he did not want anyone to tell him what to do – not the Dursleys, not Dumbledore, and certainly not a stupid stone box. That would not do. Harry walked uptight, his face a mask. He had stopped doing as others bid him… and this summer, he would not start being controlled by… it.


End file.
